


Grace and Graffiti

by bluerosebouquet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerosebouquet/pseuds/bluerosebouquet
Summary: Cas could never get used to the physical pain of being human, the shattering pain of bones breaking, the searing pain of being burned, the throbbing of a split lip, the aching of sore muscles after one too many fights, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the unquestionable, all-consuming pain of losing Dean.





	1. Chapter 1

August 7, 2014

Cas broke free of the clawing hands and vicious screams of the Croats for a moment, a heartbeat, just long enough to look out the window and see Dean on the ground. Impossibly, maybe Cas is imagining it, they lock eyes. He knew what Dean had done. He knew that he had willingly sacrificed them, sacrificed him to the Croats and the demons. He sees Dean’s face, that face that he would do anything for and he thought he could see the regret, the pain. He thinks Dean tries to say something, just as Lucifer snaps his neck. Cas feels the scream wrenched out his chest, he doesn’t hear it, but he feels it tear through every millimeter of his body. He could never get used to the physical pain of being human, the shattering pain of bones breaking, the searing pain of being burned, the throbbing of a split lip, the aching of sore muscles after one too many fights, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the unquestionable, all-consuming pain of losing Dean. There was no way forward. He couldn’t see, breathe, even hear the terrible sound of gunfire and Croats and demons and his dying friends. He stared and stared and stared at Dean, his Dean, his one and only Dean lying broken on the ground, Lucifer’s white shoe still on his neck. The pain goes on and one, crashing over him like the ocean waves that he wished would drown him, take him out to sea. There was only one thing to be done. After a moment, Cas stands, looks at Dean lying there on the ground, turns, and lets the monsters take him.

August 10, 2010

Summer days like this made Cas glad to be on earth. Cool and breezy with a light blue sky, the area around Bobby’s place was green and lush. The world was beautiful, and Cas was glad to be in it.  
Dean always said that Cas was too quiet, materializing directly him, but this time it was Dean that surprised him. He appeared at his shoulder, looking out, clearly trying to see what Cas was looking at, and, probably, if it was a threat.

“What’re you doing?”

“Admiring the view.”

Dean scoffs, taken aback.

“What?”

“Sometimes even I can admire the beauty in things.”

Dean watches him. They never really had time to look at things. Dean had traveled all over the country and Cas was sure that he had seen almost none of it. He had never understood how Cas could sit in a park for hours after a hunt or simply watch the scenery go by in the Impala, but he hoped one day Dean could slow down enough to see how beautiful things on earth could be, monsters aside.  
“Yeah well, nature tour’s over, we have bigger problems.”

Clearly, today was not that day.

“Such as?”

Dean, mysterious as ever, dodges around his question.

“Come on, Bobby’s waiting.”

The inside of Bobby’s house was the same as it always was, simultaneously a wreck and a home. Similar to the car bodies outside, it was rusted and well-loved, old and strong, beautiful in only the way humans could make beautiful.

Dean was leaning against the counter, swigging from a bottle he had pulled from Bobby’s fridge.

“We have a problem.”

Bobby was never one to wait for dramatics. He sighed and wheeled himself towards the kitchen table, pulling his journal off of it and turning back to Dean.

“Out with it, boy, what is it?”

Dean slammed some newspaper clippings on the counter. Cas looked down at them. They were from all over, mostly small towns, one little city in Texas called Taylor. People gone crazy, killing indiscriminately, normally peaceful people simply turned violent for no apparent reason. He had heard something of this, when he was in Heaven, before he knew Dean or Sam or Bobby or anything about the world. He knew it was bad news, probably worse than bad news.

“What is it?” Bobby asked, looking up at Dean, who was, as usual, doing his best to be unreadable. He was never very good at it, but he tried.

“Croatoan.”

“And what the hell is that?”

“A virus. Me and Sam took on a town with it in Oregon a few years back. It, it does this to people, makes them violent, stronger than normal. It’s…bad news.”

“How the hell did it get out?” Bobby’s voice was stricken with something, an emotion he didn’t often show.

Dean swallowed. He obviously knew something, and if Cas knew anything about Dean, he wasn’t about to keep it from Bobby.

“Could be the demons. Think about it. If they release it, it could decimate the planet, turn everyone against each other. It makes sense. But what I don’t get is why right now. I mean, we all know they’ve been kicking it up a notch recently, hell we’ve taken down groups of em every other week it seems like, but this? I just don’t see why the timing works out,”

Cas cocks his head to the side, looking at Dean. Now he’s the one that knows something, and he’s always been terrible at hiding things, especially from Dean. Dean is rubbing his forehead. Cas used to think that this meant he needed healing. He had tried more than once to touch his forehead and heal whatever pain Dean was in when he did this, but Dean insisted that headaches were part of being human, and he didn’t need it taken away every time he rubbed his head. Still, Cas didn’t like to see Dean do this. It meant he was stressed, and above everything, Cas wanted to make Dean’s life simple, not more complicated.

“Dean.”

“What, Cas?”

“I’ve been hearing some things, and you won’t like it.”

Dean’s eyes snap up to him. Green as the grass outside. Humans really were amazing, billions of different shapes, sizes, colors, and minds. And eyes. Green had always been his favorite, though he wasn’t sure why. Dean’s tongue ran across his teeth.

“Okay, I don’t like most of the things I hear nowadays, I’m sure this isn’t the worst.”

Cas looked at him and he knew that what he said next would quite literally change the outcome of their lives. It may sound dramatic, Dean and Bobby often said that he sounded like he’d been ripped from a dystopian novel. He didn’t understand that reference at first until Dean had thrust Cormac McCarthy’s The Road in his hands one night and hadn’t said another word.

“I heard that Lucifer is making moves, trying to find Sam.”

Dean’s face doesn’t move.

“Sam wouldn’t say yes.”

Cas pauses. He can feel Dean daring him to go on, daring him to accuse Sam of saying yes to the Devil, even in theory.

“From what I’ve been hearing, he might.”

Dean stands and stands closer to him, their faces are only an inch apart, blue meets green, grass meets water, you might say.

“He wouldn’t. Say yes.”

“Dean,” as always, Bobby breaks the tension.

Dean takes a step back. He sighs.

“So, about Croatoan-”

Cas only half listens to him as he plans with Bobby. Plans next steps, plans where the infection could spread, plans worst cases and best case scenarios (which, admittedly, aren’t very good). He knew that Dean would never believe Sam would say yes, even though he and Sam hadn’t spoken in almost two years. Dean would never think anything bad about Sam, Cas knew that, but the angels he had spoken to had been clear. Lucifer was doing his best to find Sam, and Sam was wearing down. They had told him that Sam was getting tired of running, of constantly saying no. And if he said yes…

“Alright, fine, we’ll take it from there, but we have to keep an eye on it,” Dean jerked him out of his thoughts, “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.”

He follows Dean back outside, to the beautiful sunny day that knew nothing of the literal plague sweeping the lands. Dean leans against a pillar on the porch, trying his best to be casual. Again, he was good at many things, being casual was nothing one of them.

“Is that really all you’ve heard about Sam?”

“Dean-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Cas, I need to know.”

“From what I’ve heard he is…close to saying yes to Lucifer.”

“And if he does?”

“I think you know.”

Dean runs his hand down his face and sighs. Cas wishes he could take this away from Dean, who has been through so much and suffered so much. He wished he could take away the pain, the heartache that he felt, but this was his job, and his job alone. Cas could only be there every step of the way, to never abandon or leave him.

“I can’t, I won’t say yes.”

“That is your choice.”

He knew Dean wanted him to give him an answer to tell him unequivocally yes or no. Yes, say yes to Michael, stop the apocalypse the way it was meant to be stopped, be damned the loss. Or, say no, and hope that Sam stays strong and stays away from Lucifer.

“Yeah.”

“Have you considered-”

“It’s better if we stay away from each other.”

Cas nods, reaching out to touch Dean’s shoulder. He hopes he’s not imagining it, but he feels Dean lean into the touch. They stand there for a while, not enjoying the scenery, but enjoying the company all the same.

That night, he, Dean, and Bobby scout a nearby town that had been rumored to have signs of Croatoan. They, of course, end up in a knock down, drag out barfight, killing two demons and taking one captive, dragging it back to Bobby’s in the trunk of the Impala. Cas has to physically restrain Dean from torturing the answers out of the demon.

“Dean-”

“We won’t get answers out of that little bitch without usin the right tools.”

“Dean, listen to me-”

Dean’s hands fist into his trench coat, and Cas sure if he’s going to hit him or throw him against the wall. Either way, things were going to get violent. If Bobby hadn’t been there, Cas wasn’t sure if Dean would have killed him to get to that demon, but Bobby put a placating hand on Dean’s arm, and Dean let’s Cas go, stalking over to the corner and picking up a bottle of Hunter’s Helper for good measure.  
After a moment, Cas squares his shoulders and confronts the demon himself. It doesn’t come easy, but he would rather spend days locked in battle with a demon in Bobby’s dark, cold basement then make Dean torture again. After all, the last time he did that, he had almost gotten Dean killed by Allistair, and he was in no hurry to repeat that. The demon eventually gives way, they aren’t exactly hard to crack, the weaker ones at least. It tells him that yes, Croatoan was being released strategically, so as not to be noticed by most. People in the cities, it told him, black eyes glittering, that they were next. He pressed for information about Lucifer, but the demon was a grunt, didn’t know anything.

When he returned and relayed the information, he and Bobby let Dean do the killing, and if they saw that it had multiple stab wounds, they didn’t say anything about it.

Upstairs, after Bobby had gone to bed, Cas observed as Dean drank his way through most of the bottle of Hunter’s Helper.

“Why didn’t you let me get that information?”

It’s the most Dean has spoken to him all night.

“I already made you torture for me once, it almost got you killed.”

Dean snorts, not looking at him. That was a very human way of letting him know Dean was angry with him. He never looked at him if he was angry. This time, he chose to stare at an empty beer bottle on a side table.

“There’s a difference between Allistair and some grunt demon that doesn’t know anything.”

“It’s not that I didn’t have faith in your abilities-”

“It’s not like you’re gonna corrupt me, trust me, dude, I’m already way past that.”

“I understand.”

Dean rubs his hand down his face again, a classic sign of being tired for him. Was it for all humans? Cas still wasn’t sure. He learned most of what he knew about humans from Dean, Bobby, and Sam, so he understood their idiosyncrasies more than anyone else.

“Why don’t you try to sleep?”

Dean half-smiles.

“Finally figured out that we need to sleep.”

“We?”

“Humans, Cas, humans.”

“Oh, yes, you’ve told me more than once.”

Dean laughed one of his half-laughs. The worst of all this is that Dean didn’t laugh like he used to. He used to laugh this wonderful, full-throated laugh that would make the whole room vibrate. Cas said this once, and Dean’s ears had turned red and he said that he must say that about everyone’s laugh, angel’s hearing or something like that.

Dean threw himself down and the couch and was asleep within seconds. Another thing that Cas had never understood about humans, it was as though they just powered down when they needed rest. He knew Dean hated it when he watched him sleep, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. He found Dean fascinating when he slept. The walls that were so carefully crafted where nowhere to be found, tucked away into the resting portion of his brain. His face twitched occasionally, as though he was conversing with someone through his dreams. Cas often wished he could sleep, because dreams sounded so amazing. Not nightmares of course, but dreaming? Dreaming was something that he would love to experience.

Dean had told him once about a dream that he had had, after hell, where he had been running from demons, Allistair, driving through winding roads in his car, and he kept seeing fireworks in the sky, seeing Sam, seeing Cas. Cas asked if it was a nightmare, and Dean couldn’t really answer him, couldn’t really explain what kind of dream it was. That was what Cas wanted: the good and the in between.  
Cas sank down in a kitchen chair, still watching Dean out of the corner of his eye. He had gotten much better at not watching Dean all the time when he slept, after Dean woke up once and threw a book at his head. He missed, but the sentiment remained. Cas had learned the pass the time. He pulled out Dean’s worn copy of Slaughterhouse Five. Dean had insisted that Cas read it, after he had finished The Road…twice. Cas obliged because he was always happy to learn more about humans and the things they liked…and Dean’s eyes lit up when he gave him the book, but obviously that was secondary and had really nothing to do with him reading it.

He found himself reading the book until the sun was seeping across the floor like spilled cream. He savored each word, trying to understand everything. He found he could almost see the pages playing out in front of him, swirling and spinning, out of order yet easy to decipher. His heart began to feel strange when he read about the aliens, putting Billy on display. He glanced over at Dean, who was still snoring lightly. He hoped that Dean didn’t see him as a Tralfamadorian.

Just at that moment, Dean groaned and stretched, sitting up from the couch.

“What time is it?”

Cas looked over at the worn clock on the kitchen wall.

“Almost 7.”

“Jesus,” Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, “Why’d you let me sleep so late?”

“You didn’t tell me otherwise.”

“It must be nice to not sleep.”

Cas didn’t tell Dean he would give anything to sleep sometimes, but Dean didn’t seem to need an answer. He stood, stretched and shuffled over to the ancient coffee maker. As the coffee began to drip into the pot, he turned, leaning against the counter.

“How you likin it?”

“It’s very interesting. I find the sections on Tralfamadore to be the most fascinating.”

“Well,” Dean said, stretching, “that’s because you’re pretty much an alien. Cooler than the Tralfamadorians, though.”

Cas smiled.

“I’m gonna make breakfast, you want anything?”

“I can have whatever you’re having.”

“Alright, eggs and bacon it is.”

Cas continued to read as Dean cooked breakfast. Hardly anyone knew what a good cook Dean was. He often said it was because he never had time or they were always in cheap hotels with no kitchen on hunts. Cas had been surprised when he had first eaten food on earth. Most of it was greasy and left stains on the brown paper bags it came in, but Dean’s food? That was the best kind of food.  
Dean hummed as he worked, scrambling the eggs and frying the bacon. It felt nice, like the world outside wasn’t full of zombies made by demons that were trying to kill everything in their sight. You know, peaceful.

Bobby made an appearance at the smell of food and the three of them share a meal for the first time in what felt like months. Of course, Dean ruins the fragile air of peace with,

“So, I found another group of demons.”  
Bobby grumbled into his eggs.

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want a day off?”

“No, but I did want to enjoy my eggs without thinking about demon powered meat-suits for ten minutes.”

Dean looked pissed. They all knew that when he got onto something, there’s no getting him away from it until he solves it, especially when it comes to Sam. Cas knew it didn’t matter that they weren’t speaking and he knew it didn’t matter to Dean that Sam might be close to saying yes to Lucifer. Dean’s passion, his fierce, unbreakable love for those in his life was palpable, and none more so than Sam. After they enjoy their eggs (only at Bobby’s insistence), they take the Impala to the next cell of demons.

It’s remarkably similar, they take one of them back to Bobby’s, Cas is the one to “interrogate” the creature. It had no new information, no nothing about Sam. They let Dean finish the job.

Dean slumped in the corner, blood dripping down his hands. Cas had no idea, no idea how to help him. So he settled for sinking onto the floor next to him, pulling Slaughterhouse Five out of his pocket, and began to read. He felt, rather than saw the tension begin to bleed out of Dean’s muscles. With Vonnegut rolling off of Cas’ tongue, eventually Dean fell asleep. And if he ended up leaning against Cas, breathing softly through his nose, Cas didn’t say anything about it.


	2. Chapter 2

February 15, 2012

Croatoan was undetectable at first. People chalked it up to “state of the world” in the newspapers. Dean always scoffed when he saw the headlines. First, small towns were being infected. Then, outlying suburbs, then, the virus began to creep into the major cities, seeping in like blood through a crack in a wall.

Cas spent a couple of weeks in Heaven, gathering intel. The angels didn’t know much, but what they did know is that they were preparing for war. Everywhere he looked he saw tightened security, as if anyone could break into Heaven. Then, they began to talk to him, telling him they knew he had been with Dean, that Dean was the only one who could save them. Cas tried not to listen, tried to push them from his mind. But in Heaven, there was only so much he could do to avoid the cloying cries for help.

When he returned to earth, to Dean, he put off telling him about it, it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know.

Dean watched him walk up the driveway. It was cold, snowing now. Winter was in full effect. He walked into Bobby’s house, blissfully warm from the biting cold. He had never really experienced cold before, he wasn’t quite sure why it would be affecting him now. Dean gave him a quick, one-armed hug and a gruff, “it’s good to have you back.”

“Damn, you’re cold,” Dean looked him up and down, Bobby waiting in the kitchen for them.

“Well it is winter,” Cas deadpanned back. Dean looked a little concerned but refrained from saying any more. He ushered Cas into the kitchen and sat him down for interrogation.

“So?”

“I don’t have much to tell.”

But he was becoming worse and worse at keeping things from them, Dean and Bobby both. So, eventually, one cold and snowy day when Bobby had insisted that his old bones needed to rest, Cas sat them down in the living room and told them. Told them about Michael, how he would soon start appearing on earth, looking for Dean. He told them about the angels, how they would come looking for him, try to bring him to Michael themselves.

“…and, there’s something else.”

“Oh great, love it when there’s more.”

Cas hesitated.

“They told me they know about the virus.”

“What are they gonna do about it?”

“That’s just it. They aren’t.”

“But can’t the do some kinda magic angel crap to fix all this? They’ve gotta do something.”

“They don’t want to get involved unless you say yes to Michael.”

Dean’s face hardened. Cas knew that he wasn’t angry with him per se, but Cas was a byproduct of the thing he hated, but it still hurt to see Dean look at him like that. Like he hated him.

“They’re gonna use all of humanity as a pawn to get me to say yes to half the world getting torched?”

Cas looked down. He couldn’t look at Dean. This was his fault, his family’s fault, he and Dean both knew that.

“Yes.”

“Oh well that is friggin perfect.”

He could tell that Dean was about three seconds from walking away.

“Dean, you have to understand. They will not help. They will not help unless you say yes to Michael.”

“I told you Cas, it’s not gonna happen.”

“I know, but you needed to know that that’s where we stand.”

Dean nodded and did his best not to stomp out of the room, Cas could tell. He and Bobby sat at the table in silence for a moment.

“Go on boy, somebody’s gotta comfort the tortured soul and it’s not gonna be me this time.”

Cas appreciated Bobby, much more than Bobby knew.

Dean was standing on the porch, breathing lungsful of cold air. Cas tried it. It stung his lungs and made his chest ache. He liked it a little. There’d been a recent dusting of snow, it covered the rusted out cars with perfect white powder, not cocaine, as Dean had thought when Cas had put this into words once.

“Dean.”

“What, Cas?”

“Are you alright?”

That sounded lame, even to Cas. Of course he wasn’t fine and Cas was a fool to even ask. Dean didn’t have to say as much.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you really think that he would say yes?”

Cas knew what he should say. He should tell the truth and he should tell Dean that yes, he did think that Sam would say yes to Lucifer, and he thought it was probably going to be soon. Sam was strong, so so strong, but none of them could possibly understand Lucifer’s power of persuasion. He wanted so badly to be honest with Dean, but at the same time, he wanted to protect him? That was beyond foolish, Dean didn’t need protection. Dean was the one that was always doing the protecting. His strength was beyond almost any of the angels, and his soul was far more pure…

Cas had to give himself a little shake, bring himself back to the present moment, where Dean was watching him, waiting for his answer. Damn. He really couldn’t lie anymore.

“I believe so.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Cas watched his breath make fog in the cold air, the tiny particles from his breath too warm for the freezing air. He had never been in one place long enough to appreciate the swirling eddies of hot mixing with cold, two opposites being forced to come together. Dean watched him breathe harder and longer, trying to make the stream of fog go as long as he could.

“Yo, fog man?”

“What?”

“Come inside, I have something to show you.”

He had to admit, the house was pretty blissfully warm after the iciness outside. Dean lead him into the kitchen and pulled out a glass. He filled it with tap water and pulled out a bottle of vegetable oil. Cas cocked his head to the side, watching as Dean poured the oil into the glass. Cas was fascinated. The oil stayed on the top of the glass, it didn’t sink to the bottom, as he would have thought. But Dean wasn’t done yet, he picked up a spoon and stirred. It was similar to the cold air and his breath, only much much larger. The molecules of oil danced in the water, and Cas kneeled, his head on a level with the glass to get the best view.

“See? This is way cooler.”

“Yes,” Cas whispered.

“Quit wastin my cooking oil,” Bobby called from the next room.

“I’m the only one that cooks around here anyway.”

Cas couldn’t tear his eyes away from the oil and water. Two opposites that couldn’t mix and yet…

“Dad used to do this for me and Sam when we were kids. Could entertain us both for hours.”

“It’s fascinating.”

“Yeah, it reminds me of the making the fog out of your breath or whatever. The two opposites sort of thing.”

“That’s what I thought of as well.”

Dean sighed and gave Cas a sort of half-smile. Cas’ heart sort of jumped. He wasn’t sure why.

As the days turned into weeks, Dean became obsessed with taking out as many infected, Croats, as they were now called, as he could. He took people out almost every day, sometimes before dawn, coming back well past midnight. Cas always went with him, but he began noticing something…troubling. His powers, the things that made him an angel seemed to be dulling like one of Bobby’s kitchen knives that needed a good sharpening. He couldn’t heal quite as quickly, and sometimes he needed to carry a gun when they were dealing with Croats. He wasn’t sure what was happening, and at this point, he was a little scared to bring it up to anyone.

Dean noticed, because of course he did. He didn’t say anything about it, but he could always feel Dean’s eyes on him when he got winded after running from some Croats or when he was trying to heal someone and it took him a couple of tries. It was embarrassing, humiliating when he found Dean watching him struggle. If he couldn’t be an angel, if he couldn’t use the powers that God had given him to help Dean, why was he even around? Cas always pushed that unpleasant thought from his mind when it fought its way to the surface.

The days stretch on, and Cas can sense a change in the way he and Dean existed together. They would find moments, sometimes a minute, sometimes a millisecond, where they would find themselves pressed against each other. Not for any particular reason, just leaning against each other. Sometimes it was when they were both dog tired, Dean ready to pass out in the front seat of the Impala. Sometimes it was when Dean was in the kitchen and Cas was leaning over to see what was on the stove. Sometimes, and probably most frequently, it was when they were in the middle of a hunt, on the trail of a pack of Croats. They would be waiting for them to sneak by in an alley, in a bar, even in the Impala they would be pressed together. Shoulder to shoulder. Dean used to hate Cas’ lack of personal space, but now? Maybe it was the long nights they were always pulling, or the fact that they almost got ripped apart by Croats every two days, but the personal space thing just kind of…went away.

As the infection spread, they took in survivors and soon enough, the house was full to bursting. There were people sleeping in barns, and everyday more came, brought by hunters, friends of Bobby’s, friends of Ellen and Jo’s, everywhere.

Dean was never much for hosting, so Cas was the one that welcomed the newcomers in. Most of them were terrified, especially since they had to keep them in an old barn under observation for the first three hours they were there. Can’t be too careful, you know? Most of them were just fine, they had one near miss, and Cas hated the sound of gurgling blood and hated the sight of Dean’s hands after even more.

For some reason, the infected never came to Bobby’s. The closest they ever came was to town, but they never stayed there long. Something, or someone, was keeping them away from Bobby’s. Cas thought he knew who, but he didn’t have to say anything, he knew Dean knew.

Dean pretended like nothing was different. He smiled at the people around him, hunted the infected people so they could have enough food for everyone, and spent his free moments under the Impala, but Cas could see the change in him. Slowly, his shoulders were hunching, his laugh lines were fading, and the bags under his eyes were growing. When Cas mentioned this, Dean scoffed at him, said it was all “part of the job.”

Cas knew better than to argue.

Despite everything, Dean was still insistent on educating Cas on music. When they were on a hunt, he kept up a steady stream of Zeppelin, Skynyrd, Sabbath, and Motorhead. Those were the rare times that Cas could see Dean when he was young, before Sam…anyway. Dean’s voice was surprisingly beautiful, strong and rippling in all the right ways. Cas loved the music, but not nearly as much as he loved Dean’s voice. When Cas let slip that Physical Graffiti was his favorite album, Dean played it on repeat for about three weeks, until he and Cas knew every second of every song. The album became their thing, Cas didn’t have a voice like Dean, but he held his own with “Houses of the Holy,” (which Dean found unduly funny), and Dean could steal hearts with “Kashmir.” They sang and sang and sang, until the album was around them wherever they went. Cas found himself humming it when Dean was passed out, reading whichever book Dean had pushed into his hands that day.  
Dean always looked a little sheepish when he handed Cas a new book, like he was embarrassed to show Cas this part of himself.

“Sam was always the reader” he said one day, pushing Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle into Cas’s hand around five seconds after he finished Mother Night.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Dean.”

Dean did what he always did, he swayed from foot to foot, shrugged his shoulders, and looked at the ground. Never one to accept a compliment, every time Cas said this, Dean always ended up walking away. But Cas was never far behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

October 10, 2012

They organized parties to cook, clean, hunt, take out Croats, whatever was necessary, and as they continued to push life down the road, Cas kept hearing rumors.  At first they were simply whispers in his head, whispers of an ultimatum that was coming.  An ultimatum that was coming for Dean.  Michael, the angels said, was on his way.  Cas knew the time was coming.  Michael surely knew where they were and it was only a matter of time before he tried to take Dean.

They all knew they were losing the battle.  Croatoan was incurable, and it was spreading far faster than they could take out the infected.  They had been placed under martial law, not that that applied to them, but they did have to be more careful as they went about their business.  Once, they almost got caught by a military convoy, and that surely wouldn’t have ended well, given the 50 cal machine guns on the turrets of their trucks.  There were whispers of it in the cities, and when it took the cities, they were beyond screwed.

They were beyond screwed.

The angels were becoming more persistent.  They were in Cas’ head all the time, trying to convince him that Dean had to say yes to Michael.  Cas tried to ignore them.

They were running out of space at Bobby’s.  They were staring to get families coming in, and everyone was crammed onto the property like sardines.  Everyone’s tempers were getting a little short.

One morning, Cas found Dean in the kitchen.  With around 10 of his closest friends.  Cas leaned around to see what was on the stove, always eager to get some of what Dean made.

“Cas, get off my ass!”

Cas pulled back, a little surprised.

“My apologies.”

“Just…leave me alone while I’m cooking.”

Cas cocked his head a little to the side and backed off.  He knew Dean well enough to know that Dean would knock him flat if he pushed too far.

Cas wandered outside, where people were milling around in the weak sun, reading and talking.  Even outside you couldn’t catch a minute alone.  Cas found himself standing on Bobby’s porch, watching.  He was constantly amazed by humanity.  You could put them in almost any situation and they would adapt to it.  These people, these families that they had taken in had lost everything; their families, their homes, but it didn’t break them.  There they all were, talking and laughing and playing, like the world wasn’t completely going to shit around them.  Cas sucked in several breaths of the crisp South Dakota air.  The leaves were changing color and some of them had fallen, the children making them into piles and crunching around with endless delight.  If Cas hadn’t known better, he would have thought he was in a park and not at Bobby’s place, surrounded by the displaced.

Cas felt, rather than saw Dean at his shoulder.  They watched the people in the yard in silence, neither one willing to break the silence.

“So, uh, Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry about…it’s just the house is so crowded and I feel like I’m climbin walls.”

“I understand, Dean.”

Dean didn’t say anything else, but leaned into Cas’ shoulder, so briefly it could have been his imagination.  This was nice, as nice at the impending apocalypse could be, anyway.

It all went to hell a few weeks later.  Well, not literally, but you get the idea.

Dean and Cas were out scouting for a new place to put all the people they were taking in.  Everything had been pretty normal, they took out a few Croats, ate lunch at some diner on the roadside that was still open (Dean insisted that Cas get his first ever chocolate milkshake, Cas was eternally grateful for that), they sang “Custard Pie” as loud as they could, and headed back to Bobby’s with no new info, but with a little less claustrophobia.

They were about a mile down the road, the last few bars of “Ramble On” fading off the stereo when the light hit them.  Even Cas was blinded by it, but he knew exactly who it was.  The tries screeched, gouging black marks into the grey pavement.  The light was blinding, piercing into Cas’ eyes.  It cut out at suddenly as it had begun, Cas had to blink fast to get his bearings.  He realized his arm was stretched towards Dean, pressed against his stomach.  He and Dean looked at each other.

“Michael?” Dean looked frightened, he couldn’t hide it.

“Yes.”

Cas looked out the windshield and saw Michael, well, Michael’s vessel, in the road.  Waiting for Dean.

“I can’t go with you.”

“Yeah, I figured that much,” Dean paused, his macho air struggling to remain in place, “Don’t…don’t go anywhere.  Okay?”

As if he could ever, ever leave Dean.

“No, I’ll be here.”

Dean nodded, squared his shoulders, and opened the creaking door of the Impala.

Cas wished he didn’t have to hear what Michael said to Dean, but he was still an angel.  He wished he could turn on the radio and listen to something Dean put on.  Some Zeppelin, maybe some Black Sabbath.  But he had to listen.  He had to hear Dean make his choice.

“Dean.”

“Michael.”

“I know you know why I’ve come.”

“Yeah I sure do, and since you’re so all knowing you probably know my answer.”

“Dean, please listen to reason.  I know you don’t want to believe that your brother would say yes, but-“

“Don’t talk about my brother.”

“Dean, the time is coming soon.  Sam will say yes to Lucifer.  You must say yes to me.”

“Yeah so your big brotherly showdown can destroy the planet.  No thanks, pal.”

“You have said no so many times, Dean.  I implore you to consider what you’re doing now, just this once.”

Michael paused, Cas could see in his face that he didn’t want to play his cards too soon.

“Castiel hasn’t told you?”

Dean looked back at the car.  Their eyes met.

“Told me what?”

“That this is your chance to save humanity, Dean.  We cannot help if you don’t say yes.”

“Oh he told me about using humanity as your bargaining chip.  I’m still not buying what you’re selling.”

“Same stubborn Winchester,” Michael sighed, showing his frustration for the first time, “Dean I cannot impress upon you the risk you are taking by saying no to me.  If I leave and Sam says yes?  The outbreak will take over the world.”

“Because you and your feathery friends won’t do anything about it.”

Cas watched Michael smile.  It was beyond unsettling.  To think he had admired him, wanted to be like him.  It made Cas feel sick.

“We can’t help the world if you don’t help the world.”

“Oh that’s great.  Good to hear from the people that control the pearly gates.”

Cas can’t help but laugh a little.  Even in the face of one of the most powerful beings in existence, he’s still the same Dean.

“Dean, you can’t understand what you are doing to yourself.”

 “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“You would sacrifice your entire race on the vain hope that Sam won’t say yes to Lucifer?  Of course he’s going to say yes, no one can resist him.”

“Sam can.”

“Dean, I’ll only ask once more, and then I’m gone.  I won’t come back to ask again, and I will leave humanity to the fate you’ve given them.  And before you say anything, I want you to think about what you’re about to do.  Think about what you will do to the world if you refuse me.”

Cas watched Dean, he couldn’t see his face, but he could tell by the set in his shoulders what his answer would be.

“Yeah I’ll take my chances not being your meat-puppet.  The answer’s no.”

“I am truly sorry to hear that, Dean.”

The world began to shake.  Michael was leaving, but he wasn’t the only one.  Cas barely had time to register the sky cracking open like a broken egg before pain coursed through him like a lightning bolt.  It seared across his back, over his chest, through his ribcage and up his neck.  He couldn’t tell if he was making noise or not and he felt hands on him, they were trying to drag him back to heaven.  Then he felt them tearing at his wings.  His wings!  They clawed at them until there was nothing left but bloody feathers on the ground.  He had to be bleeding out, they had torn out his very soul.  They were taking him, picking him up by the shattered bones of his wings, dragging him up, taking him away from earth.  He wasn’t going to go, he swore, he promised that he wouldn’t leave Dean.  He fought back, kicking and clawing, blood pouring from his back.

“Come with us, Castiel,” they cried, trying to pull him back to safety and sanctity of Heaven.  He couldn’t say anything, he just continued wrenching and twisting, trying everything to get back to earth.  He thought he saw Michael through the mass of angels struggling to pull him back to the light.  His hand reached out, but instead of trying to pull him up, it closed around his throat.

“You’ll die with them,” he said, his fingers tightening.

As soon as the pain had come it vanished, and he realized the hands on him were not the angels’, they were Dean’s.  Dean had one hand on his chest and one hand on his neck, holding him in place when he felt like he had been ripped into a million pieces.  He looked paralyzed with fear, it was written into every inch of his face.

“Cas?  What happened?  Is this Michael, is he doing this so I’ll say yes?”

Cas felt his back gingerly.  Nothing.  No blood, no feathers.  His heart was racing from the pain.  It didn’t normally feel like this, he felt like it was going to burst out his chest.

“No.  No.  But the angels, I think they’re gone.”

Dean’s eyes widened.

“Gone?  G-what do you mean gone?”

“They’re gone.  I felt them, I saw them leave.”

“Then how are you still here?”

Cas paused, remembering Michael’s words.

“I- I chose to stay.”

Dean searched for answers in his face.  It’s not like he was going to find any, Cas didn’t even know what was going on.

They looked at each other, searching for words neither could find or say or even think of.  Then Dean, ever the tension breaker, clapped Cas on the shoulder and said,

“Come on, let’s get the hell outta here.”

They didn’t speak about what happened, but they couldn’t avoid the questions that plagued them from the others.  There were enough hunters at Bobby’s that they were accosted pretty much as soon as they got back.  They dodged the questions, only telling Bobby what happened when they could escape to his basement for a few undisturbed minutes.  The news shook Bobby up.

“So they’re all gone?  Every angel.”

“Yes,” said Cas, still interested in his back, the phantom pain of his wings still lingering.

Dean watched him from the corner of his eyes.  It made Cas feel like he was under a microscope.

“Well, that’s just great.”

Dean bristled.

“You think I should’ve said yes?”

“No, I’m not sayin that.  It just…it adds to our problems.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, throwing himself into a chair, “Great.”

Cas didn’t realize at first the extent of what had happened.  He thought that he was just a little slower than normal, a little less quick.  He chalked it up to the angels leaving and trying to take him, he was weakened, nothing more. Until, two days after the angels left, Cas fell asleep.

He was in the Impala, looking for Croats with Dean.  They were parked, waiting to ambush any group that passed, when Cas felt his eyes getting heavy.  His body felt like lead and he couldn’t move properly.

“Dean,” he whispered.

“What, Cas?” Dean barely took his eyes off the road they were watching.

“I feel…strange…” Cas said, trying to keep his eyes open.

Dean looked over at him.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you looked like you’re about to pass out.”

“Sleep?”

“Yeah…are you- Are you about to fall asleep?”

“I don’t know,” Cas had no idea why he couldn’t talk at a normal volume, but it felt like it would be far too loud, “My eyes are falling down.”

Dean snorted, but Cas could sense some concern in the way he was looking at him.

“Sleep if you need to, I’ll wake you up if I see any Croats.”

Cas hummed a little and let his eyes fall closed.  It was a strange thing, to finally experience one of the only human things he had lacked.  He had daydreamed about sleeping, about dreams, but the ones he had were very strange, and far more vivid then what Dean and Sam had described to him.

He found himself walking down an empty highway, the pavement cracked with grass poking through them.  It was clearly abandoned.  He looked around for something, a car maybe, or a road sign, something to point him in the right direction.  Even though he had no clue where he was going.  Then, behind him, he heard the engine of the Impala.  Turning, he saw Dean get out of the car and walk towards him.  He didn’t say anything, but stopped in front of him, much closer than Dean normally would.  It was like a…face off?  He thinks that’s what Dean called these sort of things.  Then, suddenly, Cas felt someone behind him, he turned and saw Sam.  But it wasn’t Sam…there was something different.   Dean and Sam walked towards each other, and Cas realized a second too late that it was not the Winchesters, that it was Michael and Lucifer.  He ran forward to stop them, but he found he couldn’t move.  He tried to yell, but he had no voice.  All he could do was watch as the battle unfolded before him.  He saw the earth razed to nothing in their battle, saw the Winchester’s bodies torn apart, and all he could do was stand there…stand there…stand there…

He jolted awake, still in the Impala, breathing quickly.

“You okay?” Dean asked, looking over at him.

“I…I think I had a dream.”

Dean shifted in his seat.  Cas could tell he wanted to ask about the dream, but was uncomfortable doing so.

“It was about Michael and Lucifer.  Their battle.  You and Sam were the vessels.  I couldn’t move, I tried to move but I-”

Dean watched him, waiting for him to say more, but Cas couldn’t find the right words.

“Yeah well that’s the good thing about dreams.  They don’t come true.”

Cas sensed some double meaning that he was missing, but had long gone past the point of asking what Dean meant when he said something.  If he wanted to explain it, he would.

Being human wasn’t too bad.  Not being able to travel where he liked when he liked was a definite loss, and sleeping was occasionally a nuisance, but overall he liked to think he adjusted pretty well.  It didn’t stop him from hunting with Dean or singing with him in the car.  It didn’t stop them from staying up late in Bobby’s basement watching movies that Dean swore he had to see, joking that they had to do it now before the power grid went down.  He thought that food tasted better, and that the way he saw things was a little bit different, but nothing that he couldn’t handle.  Until, of course, he started to feel a tingling in the back of his throat.  Dean looked at him like he was crazy when he brought it up for the first time, after it had only worsened after two days.

“Cas, it sounds like you have a sore throat.  Like a cold.  But you don’t get colds.”

Well, it turned out he did now.  It was terrible, he had no idea how humans didn’t die when this happened to them.  His whole body ached, he was coughing which only aggravated his throat, and to top it all off, he couldn’t breathe through his nose.  Dean was surprisingly gentle about the whole thing.  He gave Cas a syrupy thing that was supposed to help the cough, but it tasted like something Dean would put in the Impala and Cas almost spit it out.  Dean laughed at him, and Cas appreciated that it was a genuine laugh, one he hadn’t heard since the angels left.

“This is terrible Dean.”

“Yeah, it’s no picnic.”

“How do you function with this going on.”

Dean gave him one of his crooked smiles.

“You get used to it.”

“No thanks.”

“Come on, I’ll make you some soup.  If everyone else doesn’t try to eat it first.”

The soup did help, and so did the terrible syrup, but his throat made it hard to sleep, and they soon learned that when he didn’t get his sleep he turned, as Dean called it, “grumpy.”

“I hope you get over this quick, you’re a bitch when you’re sick,” Dean said over breakfast the next morning.  Cas glared at him.

“I did not choose to get sick, Dean.”

“Yeah I know that, but everybody gets sick.”

“You aren’t making me feel any better,” Cas put his head in his hands, ignoring Dean’s rumbling laugh, “Humans are weak and I don’t like it.”

“Yeah well, I don’t even know what to call you now.  Angel?  Human?  Grumpy?  Too many options.”

Cas coughed and groaned,

“You don’t have to label me.”


	4. Chapter 4

December 15, 2012

Winter was brutal.  Not only were the Croats beginning to come to Bobby’s, so much so that they had to set up watch times, so the fence was never unguarded, but the military was beginning to abandon their area, moving to the major bases around the states.  People were getting antsy, constantly moving from one room to the next.  And there were still people showing up, making the space situation beyond dire.  They simply had no more room, but they couldn’t turn these people away, they wouldn’t make it ten miles without being ambushed by Croats or the military, who didn’t care if the people they gunned down were infected or not.

Cas and Dean went out daily now, looking for somewhere to put all these people.  Towns were no good, too hard to protect, they couldn’t just trek into the woods, they could all die of exposure.

“Fences,” Dean said, hitting the steering wheel in frustration, “We need somewhere with good, strong, fences.”

“I’m aware, Dean.”

Cas was watching the scenery go by, looking down any turnoff to see if there was something they could use.  A sign flashed past, almost too quick for Cas’s new human eyes to see.

“Dean!  Stop!”

Tires screeched and the Impala came to a dead stop.

“Cas, what-”

“Back up.”

“What?”

“Back up Dean.”

Dean threw the Impala in reverse and they inched backwards.

“Stop.”

Cas was staring at the sign, rusted and worn, but still recognizable.  Camp Chitaqua.

“What are the chances it’s abandoned?”

Dean quirked his mouth and shrugged.

“Honestly?  Probably pretty good.  It’s a state park but who the hell is gonna be in there now? Not a lot of time for sightseeing anymore.”

Cas didn’t need to wait to hear more.  he opened the door of the car and stepped out, snow crunching under his feet.  He heard Dean following behind him as he approached the chained and padlocked gate.  In an earlier time he could have simply opened it with his will, but now.

“Guess we have to climb it,” said Dean, looking distasteful.

Cas didn’t answer, but shouldered his backpack and began climbing.  It wasn’t too bad, the fence was cold but not icy, easy enough to get a grip on.  When he and Dean landed on the other side, Dean pulled out his pistol.

“Come on.”

They walked around the place for hours.  It was perfect.  The buildings needed some work but nothing they couldn’t handle.  There were places for generators, so they could have power, even a ready-made rainwater collection system.

“God bless our national parks,” Dean sighed, sitting down on one of the cabin porches, “I guess you and I get first dibs.”

“Dibs on what?”

Dean smiled at Cas.

“Dibs on housing, man.  We get the pick of the litter.”

Cas smiled back, not quite sure what garbage had to do with it.

“Surely we’ll have to put people together.”

“Yeah but given what they’ve been living in, this’ll seem like paradise.”

They stayed at the camp longer than they should have.  They should have gone back to Bobby’s and started work on moving everyone immediately.  Instead, they ate some lunch, looked around some more, and simply enjoyed each other’s company for a while, knowing that they would be too busy to get it again, for a while at least.  Dean hummed as he looked under the Impala’s hood, Cas sitting on a rock nearby, watching him.  He watched Dean’s tongue poke between his teeth as he tightened something on the engine block.  He watched the set of Dean’s hips as he leaned over one of the gaskets.  He watched Dean wipe his forehead, leaving engine oil in the sweat’s place.

“The hell are you looking at?”

“I’m just looking.”

Dean made a face at him,

“Don’t objectify me.”

“What are you working on?”

“Just a tune up, checking to make sure she’s running the way she’s supposed to.  There’s no room in Bobby’s yard and winter can be hard on her.”

Cas just smiled.

They started preparations to move everyone right away, especially since the Croats were literally beginning to walk up the driveway.  Surprisingly, Chuck had really begun to step up and take control of organizing things for the move.  He was picking out which cars to take and what to load in which vehicle.

Cas could tell that Dean was getting antsy.  He had wanted to leave for Camp Chitaqua from the minute that they found it, but it was taking much more time than either of them had anticipated.  They were going to have to move in groups, not all at once.  When they figured this out, it fell to Dean to try and figure out who was going to move first.  He agonized over it for days, working with Chuck to figure out the best path through he infected zones with small groups of people.

Their first try was a complete disaster.  Croats attacked the caravan a couples miles out, overran the truck.  Two families.  Gone.  Cas could see the guilt in Dean’s face when the scouts told them. 

Cas sensed a change in Dean.  He wouldn’t leave the property unless Cas was with him and refused to sleep out of the basement.  Cas was worried, and so was Bobby.  Bobby approached Cas a few days after their first run at Camp Chitaqua.  Cas had forced Dean to go shower, insisting that if he smelled him any more his nose would fall right off his newly human face.  Bobby was looking at Cas with tired eyes.  Cas was expecting some kind of big speech, some grand gesture where Bobby would explain the meaning of life or something to him.  There was none of that, but Bobby did give him two sentences that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

“Don’t lose what you have in Dean, Cas.  He needs you, even though he wouldn’t ever say it.”

Cas didn’t say anything, but gripped Bobby shoulder, clutching him to keep himself grounded.                                                                                                                            

Dean appeared at that moment, pulling a t-shirt over his head.

“Am I ruining a moment?”

“Usually,” Cas said, releasing Bobby’s shoulder.

Dean gave him a crooked smile.

The situation was getting truly desperate.  They had moved a few people over to Camp Chitaqua, finally figured out a path that didn’t involve being overrun and torn to shreds by Croats.  They had people working around the clock, trying to make it fit to live in.  Chuck had been one of the first to volunteer.  Cas knew that Dean would be the last one to leave Bobby’s, so he intended to be second to last.

They checked on the camp almost every day, and the improvements were coming along, but it wasn’t secure enough to move everyone over yet.  And then, there was the greater problem: how the hell do they get everyone out when it was finally ready.  Every day they stayed it was more and more dangerous to take people out.  They were running out of time.

“We don’t have much time left at Bobby’s.  We have to get them out of here.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

“I don’t know, Cas, we’ve gotta find a way to get them all outta here.”

“Dean, you know I’ll help as much as I can, but-“

“Don’t give me that, Cas, you gotta pull a few strings upstairs and help me-“

“I’ve tried, Dean, you know that.  You know I’ve tried.  They won’t listen to me.  I don’t even think they can hear me,” the next words pained Cas to say, “I’m not an angel anymore, Dean.  there’s no ifs ands or buts about it.  I don’t think I can help you, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Hey Cas, don’t say that.  We can’t do this without you.”

“Do what without me?  I’m relatively certain that there are plenty of people that are better trained, better prepared for this than me.”

He didn’t mean it to sound self-pitying, but he was pretty sure that’s how it came off.  He didn’t want Dean to pity him.

Dean came up to him, quietly, gingerly.  They stood face to face and Cas could feel his racing heart.  It was strange, he had never felt anything like it before he met Dean.  No matter how many times he had come to earth, how many times he had interacted with a human, how many times he had grown to know them, his heart had never raced before Dean, he had never felt lightheaded before Dean, he had never wanted to break his oath as an angel before Dean.  And Dean, like always, was none the wiser of the thudding heart that he created.

“Cas.”

Dean leaned forward.  Cas was frozen, unable to move.  Dean smelled like engine grease and sweat and leather, three things that Cas had never known, or never really understood before he knew him.  He thought for a brief moment, as fleeting as a bird’s wing across the sky, of kissing him.  Another first.  Dean Winchester always had pushed him to do new things, and here was further proof.  He reached out, almost like he couldn’t stop himself, bridging the gap between them, and held Dean’s coat in his hands.  He felt Dean exhale.  They stayed there holding each other in a certain way for what could have been seconds, it could have been hours.  If he was being honest, Cas had no idea what to do next.  His heart was still rattling, to the point of being painful.  Is this what a heart attack feels like?

“Dean.”

Dean’s lips are chapped from the cold and he tastes like nothing Cas has ever experienced.  It’s kind of like mint and kind of exactly like Dean.  Just Dean.  The kiss is short and over almost as it begins, just long enough for Cas to thread his hands through Dean’s short hair.  They pull apart, staring at each other.

“Well, can cross that one off the bucket list.”

Cas smiles.  They stay there for just a moment longer and then pull apart.  Dean heads back to the house, walking with a sort of swagger that made Cas want to laugh out loud.  Dean turned back towards him and said,

“Well come on, we don’t have all night.”

Cas looked at him in surprise, before seeing the smile curling around his lips.  He smiled back and headed back towards the house.  His hands were cold and he couldn’t feel his ears, but his heart felt warm and thrummed in his ears.

It was a sound that he never expected to love as much as he did.


	5. Chapter 5

March 12, 2013

They essentially pretend that nothing is different.  They’re busy all the time so it’s easy enough to do.  They still do everything the same way, they move people to Camp Chitaqua bit by bit, kill Croats, try and keep the remaining people at Bobby’s calm and happy, the same old same old.  Except when Dean would push Cas up against the Impala when they were looking for Croats, pushing his shirt up, greedy hands searching for skin under layers of worn clothes.  After their first, almost embarrassingly innocent kiss, Dean was not messing around.  And Cas was certainly not going to argue.

The first time this happened, Cas could feel the escalation coming.  Dean looked at him far more than he ever had, and didn’t care when Cas caught him looking.  They were standing outside the Impala, having just finished with a couple of straggler Croats near Camp Chitaqua.  Cas was washing his hands with a bottle of water when he felt Dean’s eyes on him.  He barely had time to look up before Dean was pressing himself into him, pressing his mouth to his.  Cas could now appreciate the geography of Dean’s mouth; the plush bow of his top lip, his tongue running across Cas’ bottom lip.  He felt Dean’s hands twist into his hair, pulling them impossibly closer.

Cas wasn’t sure how long they were locked together, leaning into each other, the rest of the world not even a thought.  Dean tasted surprisingly sweet.  Cas pushed his tongue into Dean’s mouth.  In the very dim back of his mind, he hoped that he was doing this right.  There were a lot of opportunities for kissing in Heaven, and he knew Dean had more than enough experience.  He just didn’t want to…fuck this up.

When they pulled apart, Cas’ hands had found his way around Dean’s neck.  Their chests were pressed flush together, and Cas could feel both their hearts rattling in their chests.

“Dean…we should go.”

Dean reached out and trapped Cas’ bottom lip with his teeth.  They didn’t say anything else for a while.

They got back to Bobby’s with swollen lips and messed up hair.  Bobby didn’t say anything, but the whispers started after that.  People watched them, wherever they went and talked behind their hands.  And Dean, always confident, swagger-filled Dean would turn red every time he saw this.  Cas didn’t blame him necessarily, but he didn’t like feeling that Dean was embarrassed of him.  No one dared said anything to their faces, certainly not Dean’s, but the rumors were enough, and they spread like wildfire.

They were almost completely moved out of Bobby’s, they had fixed up a few cars and were ready to fully move into to Camp Chitaqua.  The only ones left at Bobby’s place were Cas, Dean and Bobby.  And Bobby was being Bobby about leaving.

“I ain’t goin,” he said one afternoon, after Dean had spent the better part of two hours trying to convince him to leave.  Cas sat and listened to them argue, his feet on Bobby’s table.

“Bobby listen to me, you have to at least see the place.  See it and then make the decision.”

Bobby paused.

“Fine.  I’ll see it.  And then, you’re takin me back to my house.”

“Fine,” Dean said, “Let’s get to the car.”

The drive to Camp Chitaqua was deadly quiet, even with _Houses of the Holy_ on in the background.  Dean and Bobby were stuck in a huffy silence.  Cas sat in the back of the Impala, knowing that there was no way he could reasonably break the tension.

“I’m not leavin my home,” Bobby cuts through the silence with about as much subtlety as a freight train.

Dean sighs, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter in frustration.

“Dammit Bobby, if you stay you’re gonna get ganked by Croats.  Or worse.”

“You don’t think I can take care of myself?”

“I know you can, Bobby, it’s just that-”

“We’re better off sticking together,” Cas piped up from the back.  Bobby gave him a death glare and Dean’s eyes said a silent “thank you” from the rearview mirror.

“I’ll think about it when we get there.  That’s all I’m promising.”

As always, the drive to Camp Chitaqua was nothing if not eventful.  They were always having to find new ways around the military.  This time they had blocked the main road, and the Impala wasn’t really meant for off-roading.  Dean sighed in frustration as they almost got stuck for the tenth time.

“Dammit, Baby,” he hit the gas and Cas felt the undercarriage of the car scrape the ground.  Dean winced, but he kept going, kept pushing the car to its limits.

When they finally did get the Camp Chitaqua, it was almost unrecognizable.  Hell, it almost looked like a settlement, a real little town.  Chuck greeted them at the gate, and insisted that they take a photo in front of the gate and Camp Chitaqua sign.  Dean conveniently disappeared right as they snapped the photo, but Cas liked it anyway.  Him, Bobby, Yaeger, Adrian, and Smith all holding as much firepower as they could.  It looked a little ridiculous, but when Chuck handed Bobby the photo, Bobby tucked it into his journal without another word.

Cas expected them to stay the night.  After all, it was a good five and a half hours from Kansas City to Sioux Falls.  So, Cas took a load off.  He sat in the house that he and Dean shared when they stayed ( _roommates_ , Dean said, sheepishly to anyone that asked about it) and put his feet on the table.  He had never put his feet on a table before he lost his grace, but there was something weirdly comforting in it.  He found himself doing it all the time.  He had even tried to put his feet on the Impala’s dash once, but Dean had smacked him in the back of the head immediately.  He sipped a beer and watched the shadows cross the dusty floor.

His peace was, of course, interrupted by shouting coming up the stairs.  Dean and Bobby came into the house, both in towering tempers.

“Why the hell won’t you listen to reason, Bobby?”

“I intend to die in that house.  I can take care of myself!”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed.  We can build a home here, Bobby.”

“I appreciate you lookin out for me, Dean, but I told you, I’m goin home.”

“Not if I don’t take you.”

Cas heard the threat in Dean’s voice, and Bobby did not appreciate it.

“Don’t threaten me, Dean.  If I want to get back to my house, I’ll get there, whether you want to take me or not.”

He had pushed Dean into a corner.  Cas knew that Dean would never refuse Bobby if it was a choice between Bobby going with them and Bobby going with a stranger.

“Fine.  Let’s go now.”

Cas groaned.

“Dean, let’s at least-”

“No.  If Bobby want’s to go now, we’ll go now.”

Cas rolled his eyes,

“Dean.”

“Are you coming or not?”

As if that was really a choice.

“Of course.”

They had a run in with Croats on the way back.  It was nighttime, which made everything a lot more difficult.  They had to get out of the car to fight them, Cas now using his trusty rifle to take them out.  Dean had to pull two of them off of Bobby in the car, putting his pistol under their chins and spraying them all with blood.

When they got to Bobby’s house, all breathing hard from their run in with the Croats, Cas at least, was relieved to see that it was still intact and hadn’t been broken into.  This was the first time they had ever left the place completely unoccupied, and Cas had been more than a little worried that they would be coming back to a burnt-out shell.

They spent most of the next hour trying to convince Bobby to come back to Camp Chitaqua with them.  Permanently this time.  But Bobby wouldn’t budge.  He kept rubbing his arm, drinking a beer as Dean went from placating to yelling to sullen silence.  Cas was pretty convinced that if their hours long ride back to Sioux Falls hadn’t convinced Bobby, being back at Bobby’s house wasn’t going to do much either.  They ended up calling it an early night, Dean and Bobby both heading to their respective rooms in huffy silence.

“Dean,” Cas said in his best impression of a calm voice.  Dean was pacing the living room.  Well, stomping the living room is more like it.

“Why the hell won’t he listen to me, we almost got killed back there and he still wants to stay here?  He’s in a wheelchair for God’s sake!  How can he take care of himself.  He can’t!”

“We can check up on him.”

“It’s five and a half hours away, Cas!  If he calls and we’re there?  How do we get back to him?  He’ll be long dead before we get there.”

Dean continued to rant, but Cas started to hear something weird coming from Bobby’s room.

“Do you hear that?” said Cas, looking towards Bobby’s room.  It sounded like someone was fighting, but there was no one in the house, they had triple checked that the second they had crossed the threshold.  Dean approached the door and knocked loudly.

“Bobby!  What’re you doing in there?”

Nothing, just that same weird noise.  Dean pulled his pistol from its holster on his hip and looked at Cas.  Cas nodded.  Dean opened the door to Bobby’s room and out came fully infected with Croatoan Bobby, wheelchair and all.  Neither of them realized what was happening for several seconds.  Bobby was rabid, the virus had completely taken over, Bobby was rabid, unrecognizable.  Bobby came towards Cas and all Cas could do was back up into the front hallway.  What the hell was he supposed to do?  Shoot Bobby?

“Bobby, stop-”

Three shots.  Bobby slumped over his chair.  Dean’s hands were shaking, still holding his pistol, pointing it at Bobby.

“Bobby?”

And in that instant, Cas didn’t see fully grown Dean, he saw Dean as a young boy, watching his mother die, watching his father go mad with grief and endless searching, and being taken in by Bobby Singer.  Bobby, who always treated Dean like a son, who outwardly told Dean he was his favorite.  Bobby, lying on the floor with three bullet holes in his chest.  Put there by Dean.

Dean dropped the gun and hit his knees, staring at Bobby’s body.  Cas didn’t know what to do, how do you comfort someone with this kind of grief?  This kind of all-consuming grief?

Cas ended up holding Dean on the floor of Bobby’s house until the sun rose.  When the pinkish sunrise hit their eyes, it was like Dean was snapped out of a trance.  He let go of Cas and struggled to his feet.

“We’ve gotta burn him.”

Simple words, but Cas could hear the weight in the words.

It was midmorning by the time they placed Bobby on the pyre and Dean threw his lighter on the wood.  They stood there for over an hour, Dean simply watching the flames flicker into ash.  Cas didn’t say anything, it’s not like there was anything to say, but he took Dean’s hand, just to be there for him.  Dean didn’t say anything, but pressed a light, barely there kiss to Cas’ temple.


	6. Chapter 6

August 30, 2013

Camp Chitaqua was slowly becoming a home, and every survivor was looking to Dean.  Cas started calling him “fearless leader” when they were alone, just to piss Dean off.  It worked, he always got a smack on the back of the head when he called Dean by the name.  But really, it was true, Dean was the leader of the place.  People came to him with all their problems: rations, rooming, fears about the Croats, everything.

Unwittingly, Cas had become Dean’s second in command.  There was never one without the other.  And the rumors only strengthened, but people only whispered behind their hands now.  Dean frightened them.  He had come back from Bobby’s with blood on his hands and anger in his heart.

Foolishly, Sampson had asked Dean, right when they came back, where Bobby was.  His black eye didn’t heal for weeks and no one else dared mention it.

Dean had picked up Bobby’s mantle of trying to find the Colt.  He took Bobby’s maps from the house, his books, everything they could carry and threw it into the Impala.  He would spread the maps out at night, when the rest of the camp was sleeping, and would look at them for hours, muttering to himself, trying to triangulate where the demons would take it next.  One thing they knew: it never stayed in one place long.

Dean was always the big man on campus, and this only escalated his pig-headedness when it came to getting what he wanted.  He was overly arrogant, and Cas had gotten over trying not to hurt his feelings.  He said what he wanted to Dean when he wanted to Dean, fearless leader be damned.  When people don’t question you, you tend to think you’re going to get what you want all the time.  So, Cas did what any self-respecting person would do, and he decided that he would be the one to tell Dean no.  They bickered like an old married couple.  Dean would come up with some scheme that would surely get people killed and Cas would look at him and simply say, “No, this isn’t right.”

The first time he did this, the people around the table looked astounded.  None of them had ever seen anyone contradict the fearless leader.

“What?” Dean said, his eyes snapping to Cas.

“I don’t think this is going to work, Dean.  We could get ambushed ten ways from Sunday.”

Dean looked down at the hand-drawn diagrams and maps to get the Colt.  The silence stretched for what felt like hours, but then Dean looked up at him and said,

“You’re right.  We’ll have to figure something else out.”

Of course, once the word of this encounter got around, rumors and whispers became shameless staring, and one young girl, Cara, Cas thought the was called, boldly coming up to him and asking him if he was “dating” Dean.  He spluttered at this and didn’t know what to say.  What the hell was dating anyway?  It’s not like they could go out to a nice dinner or go for a walk in the park.  “Dating” wasn’t on the table anymore.  Outwardly, at least, they were no more affectionate with each other than anyone else was.

Until they were finally alone at night, and Dean didn’t have to be the fearless leader, he didn’t have to be strong.  For quite a few nights, they would simply sit together, Cas playing with Dean’s hair as an old record player of Bobby’s scratching out whichever record Dean had picked that night.  And some nights they would watch movies, since the fearless leader could have his own private generator, and Dean would whisper his memories of the movies into Cas’ ear.  And the worst nights, Dean wouldn’t say anything, but would cry for Bobby, for his mother, his father, Ellen, Jo, Pamela, Ash, Sam, the state of the world, and Cas would hold him until his tears were drying and his breathing was deep and even.  Eventually, they found solace in each other, lips meeting lips, thighs pressing together under sheets.  Cas walked around camp with hickeys on his neck, ignoring the looks of those around him.

Those days where Dean was really Dean, when Cas’ could press his lips to his throat and feel the vibrations of his laugh, he never wanted to leave their little space.  Sometimes he could get Dean to stay in bed for longer than five minutes, but it was usually only for a few hasty, sloppy kisses and pulling on clothes when he was trying to insist they take them off.

Sex was…beyond anything he had ever felt…as a human or an angel.  He had felt the desire only a few times, and that was often because his vessel was feeling it, not himself.  But when he and Dean came back from yet another failed run at the Colt and Dean was frustrated and angry and fed up with the state of the world, they crashed together like the ocean meets the land (something Cas had made sure he saw in person before his wings were torn away).  Dean looked at Cas with wide blinking eyes, all the anger gone replaced by…fear?  Cas wasn’t sure and didn’t have time to find out.  Dean bridged the gap between them in seconds, his shirt hitting the floor.  Dean’s long fingers traced the lines of Dean’s tattoo, the lines of his collarbone, the lines of his chest.  Dean sucked in a breath when Cas licked a long line up his stomach, pushing him none too gently towards the bed.  Skin pressed flush together, breath hitching in their throats, Dean kissed Cas long and slow.  Cas could already tell he wasn’t going to last long, and he tried to articulate this, but all that came out of his mouth were desperate gasps for more.

He was right, neither of them lasted long.  Dean pressed their cocks together and Cas almost passed out.  He leaned forward to bite into Dean’s collarbone, and Dean threw his head back, not troubling to keep his voice down.

They held each other after, foreheads sticky with sweat, and for the first time in his very, very long life, he slept peacefully.

Cas gasped awake the next morning, Dean’s head moving slowly up and down his cock, a solid, slick, slow rhythm.

“God, Dean,” he yelped and Dean surfaced with a smirk on his face.

“You really gotta bring your dad into it?”

Cas whined and Dean gave him a wicked grin before returning before the task at hand.  Within minutes Dean had Cas in the palm of his hand, a whiny mess, begging for Dean to get him that inch closer to release.

“You want it?” Dean said.  Cas growled.

“Fuck Dean, _yes_.”

Dean simply looked at him, the smirk back on his face.  Damn him.

“ _Please_.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

One moment, one breath, and Dean had pushed Cas over the edge.  He swore that he saw stars.  When he came to, he felt the vibrations of Dean’s laugh in his bare chest.  Cas looked up at him, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“Why are you laughing at me?”

Dean looked down at him, and though Cas always prided himself on being put together, for the millionth time, it all went out the door when it came to Dean.  Dean ran a hand through Ca’s hair.

“You look hot when you’re like this.”

Cas smiled, and crawled up to meet Dean’s mouth with his own.

“You’re sweet” Cas said, pulling up as Dean leaned forward, whining at the break of contact, “How about you let me return the favor?”

That was one of those days that Cas wanted to make Dean spend in bed with him, but Dean was all about taking care of others, even though Cas stalled him for a good hour by coming up behind him and pressing small delicate kisses to the side of his ear.  Dean growled and whipped around, his holster slipping out of his hand and his hands twisting into Cas’ hair.  Cas grinned against his mouth, and Dean simply kissed him harder in response.

The search for the Colt took them up to Des Moines once.  It was the best lead they had in months, they had fought their way through infected, through demons, hell, even through the military to get to the ramshackle little house where a demon they had caught two days before told them, through its dying screams, that this was where the Colt was hidden.  They almost had the Colt, all Dean had to do was reach out and take it.

Dean and Cas approached the house.  It was eerily quiet.  The sound of the Croats was distant now, and there wasn’t a demon in sight.  They looked around, waiting for the attack.

“I feel like there’s some sort of trap here.”

Cas looked around the silent house. No Croats, no demons, no nothing.

“Probably.”

They entered the house, the screen door falling off its hinges, their guns at the ready.

“Should we check the house?” Cas asked.

“No, let’s just get the Colt and get out of here.”

And there it was.  The Colt.  Sitting on a table in the middle of the front room, waiting for them.

“Well that’s convenient,” said Dean.

“Yeah, a little too convenient if you ask me.”

“Yeah.”

They paused, both staring at the Colt.  Dean reached out to take it.

Upon putting his hand out, it was like Dean triggered some kind of alarm.  They heard the screams of the Croats, and suddenly, there was a demon at the door, black eyes shining in the light of their flashlights.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Dean picked up the Colt and fired, killing the demon instantly.  They looked at each other.

“Well let’s get the hell out of here, then.”

It was no easy feat.  They had to switch between running and sneaking, trying not to be heard and simultaneously escaping the hordes of Croats and demons that surrounded them.

They were almost to the car when it all went wrong.  They had to make a break for the car, sprinting as fast as they could.  Dean already had his keys in one hand, Colt in the other when Cas was grabbed from behind.  He kicked out at the Croat that had him by the foot and he felt it twist.  He heard the crack before he felt it.  Then searing, burning, white-hot pain shot all the way up his leg and through his whole body.  And that wasn’t the worst of it.  A black eyed monster was stepping towards him, and the Croats parted in his presence.  The demon came up to Cas, lying on the ground, and it smiled.

“Well that’s the end of the angel,” it said, “Well, what’s left of you, anyway.”

“Go to hell,” spat Cas.

“Oh I wish,” it said, bending down to lift Cas up, his foot hanging uselessly in the air, “But now that you’re human, I imagine that’s where you’ll be going.”

The demon looked over at Dean, who had stopped in his tracks, feet from the Impala.

“Go,” Cas cried, as the demon began to apply pressure to his throat, “Dean!  Go!”

But Dean didn’t go.  He looked at the demon, pulled the Colt out of his pocket.  Cas felt the demon tighten its grip on his throat. 

“You want it?” Dean said, “Go get it.”

He threw the Colt as hard as he could into the pack of Croats milling about behind the demon.  It dropped Cas immediately, and he crumpled to the ground as his foot gave way.  Dean came back to Cas, throwing the screaming animals off of him, and picked him up, carrying him back to the Impala.  He set Cas in the car, more gently than they had time for, sprinted around to the driver’s side, and floored it.

Dean would not shut up the whole ride back.  He kept trying to keep Cas awake, but he was so tired.

“Cas, come on man, sing this with me.”

“You always said I was a terrible singer,” Cas mumbled.

“I’d rather hear your terrible voice than nothing at all.  Come on, buddy, stay awake for me.”

Dean drove so fast that even Cas, in his hazed and pain-sickened state, got nervous as he took curves at ninety miles and hour.  Tires screeched as Dean yelled at those on watch to open the gates to Camp Chitaqua.

Dean carried Cas into camp, yelling at anyone who would listen to get the med cabin ready.  By God’s grace, or whatever, they had doctors in camp.  They forced Dean out of the room when they started prepping.  Cas heard him yelling, screaming not to be taken away from Cas, but then the blackness overtook him at last, just as they started cutting.

He wasn’t awake, not really, but he thought he could hear someone nearby.  The quiet din of voices, he couldn’t make out anything concrete.  At least until he heard another voice, one he would always recognize, near his head.

“Come on man, wake up.”

He could hear the ache in his voice.  Cas wanted nothing more than to reach out and let Dean know that he was alright, he could hear him, he would wake up.

“Listen Cas, I know that all this crap is crazy and that I should be out there taking care of all those people, but I can’t- I can’t leave this room until you wake up man because I need you.  I need you, Cas.”

He thought he heard Dean’s voice shaking.

“God, I need you more than I need anything right now.  More than the Colt, more than anything else.  It’s you, Cas.”

Cas fell asleep again, hoping with every fiber of his being that what he had heard wasn’t a dream.

Cas woke up in pain.  His last thought was of black eyes and a hand tightening on his throat, choking him.  He sat up in darkness.  Was he dead?  Is this where fallen angels go when they die?  Then, slowly, the room came into focus.  It was dark, not pitch black, there were beeping machines, most of them connected to him.  His foot was elevated and in a plaster cast.  How the hell did they get a plaster cast?

He heard deep breathing beside him and looked over.  Dean.  Passed out in a chair.  Cas’ heart jumped when he saw Dean’s hand resting on the side of his bed.  Man that was cliché, but it was true.

“Dean,” he whispered.  Dean jumped like he had been shocked with an electric current.

“Cas?  How’re you feeling?”

“Like my foot’s in about ten thousand pieces.”

Dean gave him a classic Dean look.

“Only three.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.  It would sure be convenient if I could heal myself right about now.”

Dean smiled.

“Looks like you’re on the slow path to recovery.”

“Oh joy,” said Cas, looking at his monstrously huge leg.

Recovery _was_ a long, slow, arduous process.  The doctors told him under no circumstances could he walk, which means hunting the Colt was out.  He basically had to force Dean to keep looking for it, force him to get out of the damn house.  They bickered all the time when he was first injured, because Dean wanted to be there for him but had no idea how to be there for him.  Cas hated feeling useless, and he felt utterly fucking useless when Dean looked at him.

It was boring, being in bed all the time.  He had read every book they had twice over, listened to Bobby’s records every second of every day, and was just bored.  Until one of the younger men of the group, a spry 18 year old named Andrei came into his cabin one day, saying that this had happened to him when he was younger, and that he knew the best way to pass the time.  He held out his hand and what looked like a rolled cigarette fell into Cas’ lap.  Without another word, Andrei smiled at him and departed.

Being high really did pass the time.  He always kept it from Dean, was careful to hide the stash that Andrei brought him under the bed. He didn’t want Dean to know about this, he didn’t want him to think less of him.  But the drugs helped with the pain, helped with the boredom, and helped him get out of his head.  He did a good job hiding it for a while, well, better than he expected anyway, until Dean came home unexpectedly and caught him in the middle of smoking with Andrei.  Cas pretty much had to plant himself in front of the kid, or Dean absolutely would have killed him.

“What the hell are you thinking, Cas?”  Dean stomped up and down, barely able to look at him.  Maybe it was the high, but Cas was feeling a little less than afraid of what Dean would say to him.

“Dean, you need to relax.”

“Me?  I need to relax?  Oh yeah says the king of the stick up your ass club.”

“That was when I was an angel.  Times change and so do I.”

“You could get yourself killed.”

“With what?  The drugs aren’t going to kill me, you aren’t stupid.  And it’s not exactly like I’m out on the open road right now,” he gestured down at his leg, “It’s the end of the world Dean, I’m allowed to live my life.”

Dean ran his hands over his face.

“Dammit Cas.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Yeah.  Whatever.”

“I know you’re angry with me, but I’m not going to apologize.  And come on Dean, it’s fun.  It staves off the boredom.”

Dean sighed and sank into a chair

“Sometimes I don’t know what to make of you, man.”

Cas knew that Dean didn’t mean to hurt him with these words, but it did anyway.  Dean took one look at Cas’ face and realized what he had said.  He approached their bed softly and sank down next to Cas, leaning on his shoulder.

“Sorry man, it’s just…it’s not like you.”

“Like I said, times change.”

“Yeah just…be careful.”

“I don’t intend to become an addict, Dean.”

Cas covered Dean’s hand with his own, and no matter what Dean said, or if he was angry at Cas or if Cas was stoned out of his mind, neither of them could ignore the way they could breathe again when the other came back, or the way their hearts beat faster when they saw each other.  You can’t fake that.

Cas would have liked to say that he was an amazing patient and didn’t start putting weight on his foot at all until his doctors said so but he and Dean?  They had other ideas.  Plus, even with his newfound stoner personality, he felt like he was going stir crazy in his little cabin.  He had been used to being able to go wherever he wanted in an instant, no matter how far away.  Going from that to have to drive everywhere to being confined to a single room, essentially on bed rest?  It didn’t feel great.

Dean had gotten over his attitude to Cas’ new stoner personality as he called it, but he would never smoke with him and Andrei, and he would never be with Cas if he was high.  It was a preference, he had said once, when he had consumed too much of Bobby’s whiskey,

“Cas,” he had said, leaning against the bed, “I just don’t want to do anything with you then because… because I feel like then that’s the only way you’d want me?  You know?  You know what I mean, Cas.  Like you’d realize it’s only good when you’re on something.”

Cas watched him struggle for his words, and his heart ached for him.  He really never thought that he deserved to be saved, that he was worth loving.  Not that Cas would say the word love, of course, he didn’t want Dean to turn and run at the very sight of him.

He didn’t say anything, because he knew better than anybody that no one else can talk the self-hatred out of you, you have to do it yourself.  So he settled for simply taking Dean’s and putting his head on his shoulder, sliding the whiskey bottle away from him for good measure.

“Don’t try and get me to sober up, Cas,” he slurred, half-heartedly trying to grab the bottle back.

“Don’t push on my cast, Adrienne will have your head.”

“Yeah well,” Dean said, leaning over him to grab a magazine he had dropped on the floor pressing deliberately into Cas’ stomach.

“You won’t get me that easy.”

“Nothin with you is ever easy, Cas.”

Cas smiled at him, and Dean pressed a totally sober, not at all sloppy kiss to the side of his mouth.

“You know,” Dean said, “Just for the record…I like you.”

If there wasn’t enormity in those words, Cas would have laughed.  Instead, he kissed the top of Dean’s head.

He held Dean through that night.  And Dean, half passed out and half asleep said,

“Thanks Cas.”

“What for?”

Dean just kind of wormed his way under Cas’ arm.  A gesture of affection that was beyond rare.  They didn’t say anything else, but listened to “The Song Remains the Same” play itself out on the record player.


	7. Chapter 7

January 1, 2014

Dean insisted that Cas “take it slow” when he was out of his cast.  Dean took him for “target practice” in the forest, and while Cas initially thought this was a ploy to get them both laid, it turned out it was actually target practice.  A lot less exciting.

“Dean, I am not a child,” Cas said, wildly missing the sand target with his pistol.

“Yeah, but you sure are rusty.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Cas said, picking up his rifle, “Where’s the bolt action?”

“Since when are you a good enough shot to have a bolt action?”

“Since now, hand me it.”

Dean paused.  He pulled out his own rifle from his bag.

“You sure you can handle this?”

“Like I said, I’m not a child.”

Cas grabbed the rifle and pointed it towards another target.  He cocked and loaded the gun, aimed, and fired.

He missed.  Hit a tree behind the target, about a foot above the intended shot.

He pursed his lips and sighed.  Dean laughed.

“Nice.”

“Okay, maybe I am rustier than I thought.”

“Yeah, I’ll say Sherlock.”

Dean approached Cas, coming up behind him and helping him aim.

“You’re not really doing this right now, are you?”

Dean pressed his chest into Cas’ back.  His heat radiated through both of their shirts, soaking Cas like a warm summer day.

“Just lift up,” Dean said, his breath hot on Cas’ ear, “Hold steady.”

Cas licked his lips.  This was utterly ridiculous.  Like every romantic comedy that Dean had made Cas swear to never tell anyone they watched.  Cas could feel Dean’s pulse thrumming in his ear.  Cas’ hands weren’t shaking or anything, that would be ridiculous.  Dean’s teeth grazed the outside of Cas’ ear.

“What are you doing,” Cas was trying, and failing miserably, at keeping his composure.

Dean’s laugh vibrated through Cas’ own chest.

“Helping you aim.”

“You’re not helping me much with that,” Cas gasped as Dean pressed his lips to his neck, carotid thundering under the pressure of skin on skin.

“Oh?  Am I helping you with something else?”

“I have a loaded gun in my hands.”

“Always good to practice gun safety,” Dean said quietly, his hands skimming down to Cas’ belt.

“You’re not doing a very good job,” whispered Cas as Dean’s fingers started fumbling with the buttons on Cas’ jeans.

“Then put the gun down,” Dean breathed, biting gently into Cas’ neck.

It was all Cas could do not to literally throw the gun away from him but _gun safety_ was ringing in the back of his head.  He separated from Dean just long enough to unload the rifle and set it on the ground carefully.

When he turned around, Dean had business on his face, and they retreated to the warm Impala where Skynyrd played quietly of the background, and all that mattered was skin to skin, lips on lips, and racing hearts.

After weeks of a whole lot of nothing, Dean had tracked down a lead on the Colt once again.  Even after the disastrous last attempt, Cas insisted on going.  And, of course, this sparked another round of intense bickering in their cabin.

“You can’t treat me like I’m made of glass, Dean.”

“Do I need to remind you what happened the last time we went after this thing?”

“Yes, I completely forgot, please, remind me.”

Dean shook his head, not amused by Cas’ sarcasm.

“Look Dean, you’ve gone after it plenty of times after I was laid up, and you’re going to go after it with or without me.  And I prefer to keep an eye on you.”

“No one needs to keep an eye on me.”

“Oh but I do.  Do I need to remind you that the last time you came back without the Colt?”

Dean’s face was becoming stonier and stonier.  He rubbed his arm unconsciously, the spot where a Croat had cut him open and would have infected him if Risa hadn’t put a bullet in it’s brain.  Cas hadn’t even found this out from Dean, Chuck had mentioned it casually the next day, and Cas had looked at Dean with murder in his eyes.  They had a fight just like this one then too, over which one of them needed protecting.  But Dean was never one to just lay down and take it.

“Oh you mean when I caught you getting high?”

Cas huffed and rolled his eyes.  This again.

“Don’t turn this around on me, it’s not my fault.  It’s not my fault that I broke my foot, it’s not my fault that the stick is out of my ass and I can actually enjoy things now, and it’s not my fault that you don’t have the Colt.”

They stared at each other, both breathing hard.

“Fine.  You wanna go?  Let’s go.”

“Fine.  Where’s the lead.”

“Demon said the Colt is in Detroit.”

Cas choked.

“As in where Lucifer is supposed to be?”

Dean almost looked placating.

“From what it said, they’re not together.”

“Are you really suicidal?”

Dean’s face was set.  Not that Cas thought he could change his mind, but this was really one of his more stupid ideas.

“No.”

That was probably a lie.

“Dean-” Cas started to say, but he wasn’t going to let him get that far.  Dean stood up, swung his bag over his shoulder, and headed to the door.  At the threshold, he turned back and looked at Cas.

“If you’re coming, we’re debriefing in five and leaving in an hour.”

He slammed the door behind him.  Cas sighed into the empty room.

“Understood, fearless leader.”

Debrief was in the armory, as usual.  Risa nodded to him, Yaeger clapped him on the back, and Chuck scurried in and out of the room, trying to pick Dean’s brain about supplies at truly the worst possible time.  For a Prophet, he really had bad timing.  Dean ended almost forcing Chuck out the door and slammed it, like a judge’s gavel bringing them all to order.  Cas rolled his eyes and put his feet up on the table.

“Alright, we all know where we’re going,” Dean started, his voice deep and powerful, commanding attention, “But this time, we can expect far more resistance than we’re used to.  Obviously, we can’t kill Lucifer without the Colt, but if we have a chance to do both, then we might as well ice him while we have the chance.”

“Assuming we can find the Colt first?” said Risa.

“Assuming we can find the Colt first.  Now,” Dean said, smoothing a map of the city out on the table, “From what I’ve heard, the Colt is here.”

Dean pointed to a spot in the eastern part of the city.  Not too bad hotzone-wise.  They must be getting sloppy with Lucifer in town.

“And,” Dean continued, “Lucifer is here.”

He pointed to a circled spot right in the center of downtown.

“We go in at dusk, easier for cover.  Now let’s go, we’re on the move in half an hour.”

“I still think this plan is stupid.”

All eyes snapped to Cas.  He didn’t really expect to accomplish anything with his words.  Honestly?  He was looking for a fight, and Dean was always more than willing to provide.

“Yeah, you’ve made that clear.”

“Even if we do get the Colt, which, obviously, we haven’t succeeded in that before, but even if we do find it, Lucifer will know.  There is no way we can do both in one day.”

Risa and Yaeger looked awkward.

“We get the Colt, then we worry about Lucifer.”

Cas just watched Dean, which pissed Dean off more.

“Or you could not come.”

Ah, the impasse.  The solid wall they always hit when they had this kind of fight.  Dean smirked, he knew that he had won.

“Oh no,” Cas said, staring back at Dean with as much insolence as he could muster, “Don’t want you to get yourself killed without me.  After all, am I your guardian angel.”

Dean broke the tension with a snort.  He turned back to the other two.

“Like I said, one the road in half an hour.”

Dean and Cas headed for the Impala, Chuck back at Dean’s side.

“Listen, we really need to be more focused on finding sanitary products.  We’re almost out again and it’s only been a week.”

“I’ll send a group out tomorrow.”

“Okay, but-”

“Chuck, I really don’t have time for this right now, I’m sorry.  Can we talk about this later?”

It was the gentlest rebuke Cas had heard Dean give in months.  Chuck understood and back off, and Cas’ eyes softened as they looked at Dean.  Despite everything, despite how hard the apocalypse and the Croatoan virus and losing Bobby had been on him, he was still able to be a little soft, show compassion.  Despite their fight, as even though Cas knew that he was right, the plan really was stupid, Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s fingers in between them in the Impala.  Dean looked at him, grateful, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

From the moment they rolled into town, Cas could feel that something was wrong.  Not from an angel perspective, but from a human one.  He just had this feeling in the pit of his stomach, the overwhelming feeling that they should leave nowand not look back until this city was out of their rearview.

“Dean, I don’t think we should be here.”

“Yeah and why’s that?”

“Something’s…not right?”

Dean paused.

“Yeah well newsflash Cas, somethings been not right for around five years now.  We keep going.”

Cas didn’t say anything else, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t going to make it out of there in one piece.  Dean was too reckless to listen to reason, especially since Sam might be in town.  The little group of survivors trekked into downtown Detroit, past the burnt out and blown up old houses and cars.  A great city once, Cas though, pushing a car door out of the way with his foot.  Dean gave him a look, full fearless leader mode.  Cas looked at him, pursed his lips, and rolled his eyes.

The other survivors, namely Risa and Yaeger, watched both of them out of the corners of their eyes.  Cas knew neither of them were subtle when it came to…well, anything, as their fight in the armory had proved.

“You guys okay?” said Risa, tentatively, her eyes flicking between them.

“Fine,” said Dean, walking ahead without looking at Cas.

“Yeah.  Just fine,” said Cas.

Needless to say, they didn’t get the Colt.  The demon they had gotten the intel from?  Lying.  They had to make a break for it, with ten demons and who knows how many Croats on their tail.  They zig-zagged through the streets, not paying attention to where they were going, and Cas prayed to every angel he had ever wronged that they weren’t heading towards downtown.  But when had the angels ever answered any of his godforsaken prayers.

They turned the corner, checking every nook and cranny for Croats, and there it was, the second biggest showdown of the century.  Sam and Lucifer, standing at the either end of a street.  Cas couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he knew Lucifer enough to know.

Cas grabbed Dean by the collar, he knew that he would make a break for Sam if given half a chance.  They hid in an alley, watching as Lucifer and Sam…talked.  Dean was trying to hide the fact that he was shaking, but Cas could feel the erratic movements of his arm as they were pressed together, watching, waiting.

First there was the light, light like the sun which was never seen through choking smoke, and then the sound.  Cas could still hear the angels, even if he wasn’t one of them, so while Dean covered his ears and screwed up his face in pain in the alley, Cas could hear Lucifer crying out in joy.  He finally had his vessel.

When the light dimmed, Lucifer’s last vessel lay on the ground.  The man inside was long dead.  And Sam, Sam was not Sam anymore.  Lucifer was looking at his own hands in the moonlight, reveling in the ecstasy of victory.

“Sam?” Dean whispered at his shoulder, starting at what his brother used to be.  He moved forward, but Cas pulled him back, Dean twisted and looked at him, terror and determination on his face in equal measure.

“I can’t let him-”

Cas shook his head.

“He made his choice.”

“I can stop him, Cas.  I can stop him.”

“Lucifer will kill you before you say anything, Dean.  You know that.”

Dean looked down the street, broken apart by the end of the world.  Cas saw him desperately trying to make eye contact, to connect with Sam, but Sam was long gone.

“Come on Dean,” Cas pulled at his coat, “Come on.”

He knew Dean couldn’t leave, so he balled his fist up in the back of his jacket and started to pull.  Dean gave way, easier than Cas expected.  Cas led him through the burnt out streets of Detroit, Yaeger and Risa and the rest of the crew not far behind them. to the Impala, and for the first time since Cas had known him, Dean refused to drive.  He climbed in the passenger seat, curled up, and watched Detroit burn as they tore out of town.

Dean didn’t speak for two days.  Cas was doing his best to keep everyone calm, but it wasn’t easy without Dean.  Or rather with Dean not saying anything.  It freaked people out, they had no idea what to do when Dean walked past them.  And of course, the world had gone even farther down the rabbit hole the second that Sam had said yes to Lucifer.  Cas had no idea what to do, how to break Dean’s newfound silence. 

Of course, Cas wasn’t the one to break the silence.  A young man, one of Andrei’s friends, came up to Dean and told him that his brother was a piece of shit that ruined the world with selfishness.  Cas tried to get between Dean and the kid, whatever his name was, but Dean already had the pistol under his chin and pulled the trigger before he had made it two steps.  It seemed like the whole place went deadly silent.

“Anyone talks about my brother is going to get the same.”

Cas’ eyes flicked from face to face, watching for some kind of rebellion, some kind of mutiny.  But they were long past that now.  Some people nodded, most did nothing at all.  They simply went back to work.


	8. Chapter 8

May 9, 2014

The change in Dean was like someone flipped a switch.  Sam said yes, the world went to total shit, and Dean just, wasn’t really Dean anymore.  Cas clung to the little tiny rays of light that were the Dean he knew; a half smile after successfully fixing a generator, mindlessly humming “Custard Pie” when out on a run to kill Croats, deep breathing that made Cas rise and fall with the movements of his chest.  And then, there were the moments were he was completely unrecognizable.  Like when the engine of the Impala died, and he had it pushed into a field where they stored the other broken down cars.  Cas watched him for a reaction, any reaction.  That car was everything to him, he knew that.  There was nothing.  No emotion, no reaction, just business.

Cas didn’t recognize his touch anymore.  It wasn’t skittering and gentle anymore but assured, powerful.  Like he was getting a lot of practice.

This thought nearly destroyed Cas every time it wormed its way into his brain.  But it’s not like they had ever had the “talk about what they are.”  Dean had made it clear that he hated labels more than once, so Cas made himself believe that he was imagining things, and always pushed those thoughts from his mind.

More disconcerting than this new, terrible unfamiliar Dean was the way that no one else reacted to it.  Sure, Chuck may have seemed a little rattled, and people kept their distance a little more than before but mostly?  They seemed to think the new Dean was just fine.

So Cas found other things to occupy him.  He picked up these weird meditation books he found on a run and read them cover to cover.  He wasn’t sure if it really worked or not, the whole group mind thing, but people seemed to listen to him when he talked about it, and he liked that, the idea that he could make this whole thing a little less miserable for a couple of people, even if his voice felt scratchy after talking about it for so long.  He, weirdly, picked up the hobby of sewing too.  It’s not like anyone could go out and buy new clothes, so they often had to darn holes in what they had.  Dean had laughed out loud when he saw Cas, tongue poking out the concentration, as Andrea and a few of the other survivors helped him thread his first needle.  But after some time, he really wasn’t half bad at it.  Chuck always brought him ratty t shirts to fix, but Cas didn’t mind.  There was something mind-numbingly peaceful about mending holes in other people’s things., even if it was just the knees of their jeans or the holes in their shirts.  Dean, to his credit, stopped laughing and would gently place the things he needed mending next to Cas when he was working without a word and with a kiss placed in his hair.  One of those little rays of light Cas clung to.

Most nights, Dean would get too drunk.  About half of those nights he would wander out into the woods, Cas following, keeping his distance, making sure Dean couldn’t hear him.  He would stumble into the same clearing every time, fall to his knees, and scream to the sky.  He would scream yes to Michael until his voice gave out and he passed out on the ground.  And every time Cas would pick him up and carry him back to the house.  He would set him in their bed and pick up a book or some sewing or something.  He never came to bed when Dean was drunk, those words that Dean had said all those months ago ringing in his head. _Because I feel like then that’s the only way you’d want me?  You know?  You know what I mean, Cas.  Like you’d realize it’s only good when you’re on something._  Sometimes Cas would be up all night, darning or reading or listening to the all too poignant _Stairway to Heaven_ as Dean groaned his way into consciousness.  They never talked about how he got back to the house, they always pretended like it never happened at all, but Cas could feel the tension brewing, even with his tiny rays of Dean poking through the new mask. 

Dean had started doing things his own way, sometimes without Cas.  It stung when he would get up in the morning and Chuck would tell him that he was already gone for the day.  Or days, sometimes it really felt like weeks.  At the beginning of these trips, Cas would savor the time alone.  Cas would smoke for a while, read, listen to his favorite records and enjoy being in his own head, instead of trying to pick apart the thoughts of someone else’s.  He had never had any idea of what it was like to be alone.  Angels weren’t ever alone, and it’s not like they had ever had ample space for some good old fashioned me-time.  He was picking up all kinds of new hobbies when Dean was gone.  A sweet old woman named Breanettia taught him how to knit, and he was working on his very first hat (maybe his ears wouldn’t be so damn cold this winter), One of the older men, Sampson, was teaching him how to cook.  Not only did the alone time give him some space to look at himself, but he felt like he was becoming himself.  Even if everything around them was terrible and the threat of attack from Croats, demons, the military, or even Lucifer himself loomed over them, Cas felt like a person.

But even this time got old when Dean was gone for days.  Cas hated that he missed him, especially since this new Dean had come into the picture.  When he would leave like this, Cas would tell himself that he would find a new place to stay at camp, an empty cabin, maybe with Chuck or one of the other survivors.  He would talk himself up about it, start putting things in a bag, then taking them out, then putting them back in again.

And then Dean would walk in the door, beaten and bloodied but alive, and every thought that Cas had about leaving would just…dissipate.  Dean would drop his bag, unlace his boots, and sometimes, when he was just tired and frustrated, and full of anger at the world, he would wrap Cas in his arms and bury his head in Cas’ shoulder.  On nights like these, Cas could swear he had his old Dean back.

But these nights were rare, the fights were much more common.  And the fights were becoming worse and worse.

One night, a particularly bad one shook the walls of the house.  Dean had caught Cas following him out to the clearing Cas had had no choice but to drag him back to the house before Dean woke the whole place up with his shouting.

Now he was pacing the floor, still mostly drunk.

“What are you doing?  Following me around?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, fearless leader, I’m trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.  You could die of exposure out there.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Cas laughed derisively at him.  He could tell it made Dean howling mad which, good.

“Oh yeah?  Can you?  Since you almost impale yourself on a branch every time you go out there?”

“Okay, you wanna fight dirty?  We’ll fight dirty.”

Dean pulled an orange bottle out of his pocket and slammed it down on the table.  Cas looked at it, half defiant, half guilty.  Look, sometimes reading and listening to music and weed didn’t pass the alone time as much as he wanted it to.

“You wanna explain this?”

“What do I have to explain?”

“Well where the hell you got it for one.”

“It’s not your business where I get my stuff.”

“Oh it’s not is it?  The last time I checked, I was running this place.”

“Oh come on, Dean.  I’m a human, yeah, but I am a sentient one.  I can make my own mistakes.”

“Not like this you can’t.  I need you sharp.  Not hopped up on,” Dean grabbed the bottle and read the label, “Oxycodone.”

Cas was breathing hard through his nose, trying to calm himself down.

“Where the hell did you even get these?”

Cas didn’t answer.  He knew he was in the wrong but he didn’t want to back down.  It was always almost impossible to just let go of an argument with Dean.  They always wanted to hold onto the issue until the bitter end.

Dean kicked over a chair.

“Do you think you’re a big man when you kick things over or throw things?  You can’t stop me from doing what I want.”

“Where did you get them?”

“I find them.”

“You mean when we go out?  To gank Croats or demons?  You just get a little side tracked to go look for some fucking pills?”

“I’m obviously not gone for very long.  You never noticed.”

Dean approached Cas and got right in his face.  Cas didn’t move and didn’t look away.

“Just because you weren’t gone for long doesn’t mean that makes it okay, Cas.”

“Well I’m sorry Dean, but how are you gonna stop me?”

“I can make sure you don’t come with us when we go out anymore.”

“Come on.”

“Oh I’m serious,” Dean paused, “I don’t think I can trust you.”

Cas drew up short.  The words stung like a betrayal.

“You can’t trust me?”

Dean paused.  His face was unrecognizable.

“You’ll slow me down.”

It didn’t really matter whether he really meant it or if was to get Cas off his back.  It worked.

“Alright, I see.”

Cas turned around and walked away towards the bed, their bed, but before he could turn around and say anything else, the door slammed, and Dean was gone.

It’s not like he would have wanted to hear the real explanation anyway.  Cas could handle being human.  He had had time to adjust.  He still felt pretty much useless when it came to a lot of things, but generally, he felt like he coped pretty well for the last remaining angel on the earth, the only one who was dumb enough to stay, all because he fell in love with…humanity.  The one thing he couldn’t deal with, though?  The thing he had always wondered about.  Dreams.  That first dream had only been the beginning, and Cas had no idea if his dreams were more vivid because he had been an angel, or because he was just that kind of human, but every one of them felt unbelievably real, and almost all of them were nightmares.  Run of the mill ones where a simple reliving of losing his wings.  He felt the pain clearly, as if it was still happening, felt blood run down his back, bones snapping, Michael’s hand around his throat.  _You’ll die with them_ echoed in his head.

The worst ones were not that of his own pain, but of others.  When he couldn’t save someone in camp, when he couldn’t save Bobby, when he couldn’t save Sam, and, of course, when he couldn’t save Dean.  He hadn’t slept for three days when he had had the most horrifically vivid dream about a demon ripping out Chuck’s throat, leaving him bleeding and convulsing on the ground, and when Cas kneeled down next to him, all he could gurgle out was _this is your fault_.  He woke up with a gasp, and had forced himself to stay awake, terrified of seeing it again, hearing it again if he did sleep.

Those next few days were truly absolutely miserable.  Cas just did more of the same.  And took more pills, but no one needed to know about that.

Dean walked into the cabin after nearly three days. It was by some kind of miracle that Cas was sober when he came in.  Because, you know, he hadn’t been sober since pretty much the second that Dean walked out the door.  Is this what being extremely codependent is like?  Now that he really thought about it, it probably wasn’t healthy.

Dean had that look on his face when he opened the door.  The “I really want to apologize but was never correctly taught how to so I’m going to fumble around with rods until you forgive me.”  Classic.

“Listen Cas, what I said about not trusting you?  That was out of line.”

Cas didn’t say anything.

“And I wanted to say that even though I think that you’re pill popping crap needs to stop, I’m sorry about saying I can’t trust you.  Hell, you’re the only one I really can trust.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“So can I move back in?”

Cas laughed and Dean cracked a genuine smile.

“You were never kicked out, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but I feel like it’s more respectful this way.”

Cas smiled.

“Do you want to see what I’ve been working on?”

“Sure.”

Dean sprawled out on the bed, and Cas settled in next to him, as though the last few days hadn’t happened.  A rare argument that didn’t end in a grudge.

He pulled out the lumpy grey hat he had just finished and held it up proudly to the naked bulb in the cabin.

“I am a master.”

Dean laughed.  It took years off his face.  He took the hat in his hands and put it on his head.  It was a little too long for him, it almost covered his eyes, but he had a silly grin on his face and Cas couldn’t get enough of it.

“It suits you.”

“Yeah?  Do I look hot?”

“Extremely.”

“Come on hot shot, I feel like I haven’t slept in a week.”

Cas aimed a kick at him, Dean dodged but looked scandalized.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Be careful of your foot.”

“Need I remind you that I used to be one of the most powerful beings in existence?  That I could have snapped you in half with a look?”

Dean shrugged.  Cas narrowed his eyes.

“And don’t forget who gets on top.”

Dean pushed his shoulder in a playful way, and Cas cocked his head to the side.  Playfulness was not something he had come to expect anymore, least of all from Dean.

Cas would remember that night as one of the last good ones, but in the moment you never know those kinds of things.  So he just enjoyed it, and let the sex, the taste of Dean take up every corner of his soul.  Yeah he missed being an angel.  He missed the power and the surety and the little bit of arrogance, and he missed his powers, but sometimes feeling things wasn’t half bad.  Of course, he might be a little biased, because this thought crossed his brain right as Dean made one of the most unholy noises he had ever heard.

So yeah, feelings really weren’t so bad.


	9. Chapter 9

June 10, 2014

Dean thought he was smart.  He thought he could hide things from Cas.  Dumbass.  Even with his weird new personality, Cas could tell that Dean had been hiding something from him.  He almost never went out on runs, “missions” as Chuck now called them anymore, preferring to stay behind and teach the survivors some bullshit about meditation.  He had done more yoga than he had ever wanted to in his whole life, but people enjoyed it, and it gave Cas a sort of purpose.  But Dean?  Dean would come back with bloody knuckles and wounds all over his face.  Cas would see him, try and greet him but he would just…disappear.  No one talked about it, but they knew he was getting suspicious, because whatever was happening was happening on the camp grounds.

Cas found himself snooping around one day when they came back.  He saw Dean’s Jeep but hadn’t seen Dean, and he was done being in the dark about this whole thing.  He knew wherever Dean was, Risa and Yaeger weren’t far behind.

Cas found Risa in front of a more secluded part of camp.  A cabin that was off to the side, out of sight to most of the survivors.  Convenient.

“Where’s Dean?” he asked.  She looked at the ground, clearly not wanting to face him.

“Inside.”

Perfect timing, really, because whoever was inside started screaming, Cas made to open the door but Risa stood in front of him, blocking him.

“Risa,” Cas said, looking at her pleadingly.

“I’m sorry, Cas.  I have orders not to let anyone in.”

“From who?  Dean?”

But again, his question was answered before Risa said anything.  Dean’s voice was coming from the door.

“Tell me where Lucifer is!” he said over the renewed screaming of what Cas knew was a captive demon.

“Risa, you know I have to go in there.”

Risa put her hand on her pistol.

“Cas,” there was a warning in her tone, but Cas was way past worrying about a bullet wound.  He forced open the door and saw just the thing that he had been dreading.  Dean was standing over a demon strapped to a chair.  On a table was holy water, salt, the knife, everything that could make a demon talk in the worst way.  Dean and Yaeger stood up when Cas entered the room.  The demon started to laugh, blood running out of its mouth.

“Oh look who it is.  Dean Winchester’s little pet.  What’s it like to fuck a fallen angel, Dean?  A little sad probably.  You know he loves you right, it’s written all over that sad face.  And you’ve driven him to drugs with your bad mean ways, Dean.  It’s pretty sad that you don’t care about him at all, do you?  You’ve been dead inside ever since little baby Sammy said yes to the big man.”

Dean buried the knife in the demon’s throat and then turned towards Cas with murder in his eyes.  Cas saw Yaeger slip out the door.  Yeah, this wasn’t going to be a fight that he wanted to see.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Cas didn’t back down.  He stood in front of Dean, hands on his hips.  He was probably the only person in this place that wasn’t actively afraid of Dean.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Dean threw down his knife.

“I need answers from these things!” he was starting to yell, “How else am I supposed to find Lucifer?”

Cas stared at him, disbelievingly.

“Do I need to remind you what happened to you the last time you tortured a demon?  Torture, Dean, really?  This is a whole new low, even for you.”

Dean’s lips curled into an unrecognizable snarl.

“Oh believe me, this isn’t my first one since Allistair.”

They stared at each other.  Cas couldn’t contain the look of anger that crossed his face.

“So that’s where you go?  When you go off for days?  When you fuck off somewhere and don’t tell anyone?  Don’t tell me?  You’re in here, torturing demons with your guard dogs outside?”

Dean at least had the grace to look guilty.

“Yeah.”

Cas scoffed, moving as far away from Dean as was possible, the corpse of the demon still slightly smoking between them.

“At least you’re honest about it,” Cas paused, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

Cas thought he saw a little bit of shame cross Dean’s face, but it was just a heartbeat of a moment, and then his face fell back into the mask that Cas had come to know.

“Get out, Cas.  And don’t come over here again.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“Oh good, the fearless leader voice, I-”

“I’m not playing around here. If you come over here again, I will shoot you.”

Cas didn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice, he knew he was serious.

“Fine, fearless leader, I won’t get in your way again.”

Cas walked to the door, half expecting Dean to stop him.  But then again, that was the Dean he met years ago, long before the apocalypse or before his brother said yes to Lucifer.  Things were very different now.

So, Cas did what any self-respecting human person would do when it was all going to shit: he did more drugs.  First it was little white pills, of every shape you can imagine.  Some of them made him jittery, some made him giggly, some made him sleepy, but he never really knew what would happen when he took them, which was exciting, put him on edge, but not in a “I’m about to get killed” kind of way.  Then, when just a couple weren’t giving him what he needed, he started mixing them.  He almost felt like one of those ancient…alchemists, finding out what mixing one and another would cause. He had some really really really bad experiences, but the good ones made up for it.  Sometimes, if he really hit on something good, he would be on the perfect high for almost twelve hours.

Dean didn’t say anything about the drugs anymore.  When he caught Cas high, which was pretty much all the time, he just looked at him.  Once or twice, he thought he saw sadness in Dean’s eyes, but that could just be the opiates making him see things.

They still shared a house, and they would still have those moments that would make Cas believe that his Dean was still in there, but those moments were fleeting and far between.  Sometimes it was them simply brushing hands, other times it was the way Dean’s hands ran down his back.  But then the curtain would fall on the lit stage, and there the fearless leader would be.

One benefit to their whole demon fight?  Dean made Cas come out on missions all the time.  There was still time to teach people the “way of a peaceful life,” but Cas was once again Dean’s second in command, his voice of reason, his true shot.  Cas was still a terrible shot, it was more about the metaphor of the thing.  Cas didn’t mind being out in the open air, even though the company was terrible.  But then again, all he and Dean had left was each other, so when Dean said let’s go, Cas was always right behind him.

The days wore on, they hunted, they searched for the Colt, they came home, they ran the camp, Dean left to go torture whatever demon they had caught now, and Cas got high.  You know, the simple life.

Catching Dean red handed in some woman’s bed was easier than he thought.  Granted, it’s not like he was actually hiding it.  It really only took asking one measly group of survivors and they pointed him right to the cabin.  It was some girl who had come in a few weeks back with a couple of hunters that Bobby had known.  She was tall and dark-haired, young, probably only 20.  Cas didn’t even both knocking when he entered her cabin.  Yeah, this was in poor taste, but he didn’t give a shit.  Dean rolled off the girl when he saw Cas in the doorway.

“What the hell, man.  Ever hear of knocking?”

But Cas wasn’t in the mood.  He turned on his heel and marched back to their house, knowing Dean would follow him.

“What was that?” Cas was trying, really really trying to be calm about this whole thing, even though he literally wanted to rip Dean’s throat out.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Cas said, still keeping his voice measured, “That sure as hell didn’t look like nothing to me, Dean.

“What do you want from me?”

Cas was done.  He was done coddling and done being the level-headed one.  He drew back his fist and hit Dean has hard as he could, square on the nose.  Dean hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, blood dripping out of his clearly broken nose.  He looked up at Cas, but didn’t attack back, as Cas had expected.

“We share a house, I’m your second in command, we do everything together and-”

“And I’m allowed to do what I like, Cas.”

Cas picked him up by his coat and standing inches apart, Cas had no idea what to say, how the hell do you say “I love you and I really feel like you’re cheating on me right now” to someone with the emotional range of a rock.

“Clearly you think you can do whatever, or whomever you’d like.”

“I told you, I don’t like labels.”

“Then why the fuck do we live together, Dean” Cas burst out, unable to contain the anger, “Why do we live together and listen to your records and watch movies and sing in the car, and protect each other on runs and teach each other how to shoot and fuck with the lights on?  Why do we do all that together if you don’t like labels?  And you love to try and label me, which is pretty weird since you don’t like labels.”

“I don’t-”

“You could never wrap that thick skull around what I am.  Angel, fallen angel, human, drug addict, borderline alcoholic.  You don’t want to label us but you want to label me?  Not exactly fair, fearless leader.”

Dean threw his hands up, conceding something.

“Fine, no more fucking labels for you.”

“And what about you?”

Dean rolled his eyes, wiping blood off his nose.

“What about me?”

“Really?” said Cas, “You need me to spell it out for you?”

“I’m not going to stop doing what I want Cas,” Dean said, and Cas made to walk away but Dean called him back with, “Cas, come on man.”

“Come on?” Cas said, narrowing his eyes, “It’s not exactly like I’m acting like a jilted wife here.  I am being beyond reasonable about this.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong, because we aren’t in a relationship.”

Cas physically drew back at these words, like they had whipped him in the face.  But not for nothing had Castiel been the smartest angel in his garrison.  He knew how to fight back, and fight back so dirty that Dean wouldn’t know what hit him.  He straightened up, stared and Dean with his best blank smile and said,

“Fine.  You win.”

Dean was a red blooded macho man that hated that he was attracted to Cas.  So, Cas fought back the only way he knew would get a rise out of Dean: start having sex himself.  It was easy, he was a relatively good-looking human, thanks to Jimmy Novak’s vessel, and the orgies that he organized?  Women flocked to them.  Maybe for the “group mind” bullshit that he was spouting along with them, or maybe it was the fact that the world was literally crashing down around them, but he started having them weekly.  And at first?  It worked, it pissed Dean off like nothing else could.  Cas would see him leaning against one of the cars parked outside, counting the people that left, his nose still bandaged and his face still bruised.  When he saw him outside, Cas didn’t say anything, even if Dean made the move to come up to him, speak to him, Cas simply turned around and went back inside.

They didn’t talk about it for weeks, but Cas was enjoying these newfound trysts, and Dean knew that he was enjoying them.  So, after quite a few nights of silent treatment, one night, Dean finally broke down.  He walked into the house and sat down directly in front of Cas.

“Okay,” he said, making Cas look up from the fourth Harry Potter book.

“Okay.”

“Okay.  I’m done, Cas. I’m done being mad and I’m done with the weird silent treatment.  I’m done.  You wanna have these orgies?  Go ahead.  Have em.  Who the hell am I to tell you not to?”

“No one, we made it clear we were over labels.”

“Dammit Cas I’m trying to apologize.”

Cas sighed.  It would delight him to make Dean miserable for a little while, but that just wasn’t in his makeup.  He reached out and touched Dean’s face.  Dean twitched a little as Cas’ fingers ran over the yellowing bruises on his cheek and nose, the only remaining sign of their fight.

“Okay.  Thank you,” he paused, trying to break the tension, “You could always join in.”

Dean rolled his eyes and laugh, but taking a look at Cas’ face, he looked surprised.

“You’re serious.”

“Of course,” said Cas, standing up and stretching, “Might as well do it together.”

Dean laughed.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

He didn’t, but they didn’t fight about it anymore.  As long as Dean kept his flings out of their house, and as long as Cas kept his orgies out of Dean’s eyeline, they basically just went back to the way that things were.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! This story was basically born out of my undying love for Destiel and for S5 Ep4.  
> Thanks for dropping by and reading this! Let me know what you guys think, I'd really appreciate it.  
> If you want to check out my other work, I have another account under the name knightinwritingarmor, and my tumblr is jjoepitt


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